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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


Si 


■sfcSS*      XXX/7    JS?>, 


•Frontispiece. 


HAKD    MAPLE. 


BY  THB   AUTHOR  OF 


'DOLLARS  AUD  CEUTS,"  "ME.  RUTHERFOJRD'S  CHILDBEJI.'1 
"  CASPEE,'»  "  POND  LILT  STORIES,"  ETC. 


NEW  YORK: 

ROBERT   CARTER   AND   BROTHERS, 

No.    530   BROADWAY. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1859,  by 

SHEPARD,  CLARK  AND  BROWN, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


~1>R 


&a^s  Dia^js. 


CHAPTER     I. 


PRINGTIME  had  come  —  the  spring  of 
every  thing.  And  first  there  was  the  grass, 
which  constantly  pushed  up  its  little  sharp  green 
leaves  into  the  sunlight,  and  scented  the  whole 
air.  And  there  were  the  flowers  —  many  a  ono 
in    the    dark    ground,   rising   up   towards    the    day. 


(O 


6Z271 


8  HARD      MAPLE. 

As  for  the  dandelions,  they  were  up  already  — 
running  a  race  with  the  grass,  and  then  laugh- 
ing  out  of   their   broad   yellow  faces. 

The  season  was  Spring,  the  time  was  the  morn- 
ing, the  morning  was  cold.  Not  that  it  promised 
a  cold  day  —  but  the  sun  was  not  up:  here  lay 
all  the  difficulty.  The  light  in  the  east  said  he 
was  coming,  and  the  stars  heard  the  news  and 
withdrew;  only  a  few  bright  ones  yet  showed 
their  faces.  The  birds  heard  it  too;  and  in  the 
dark  woods  that  rose  up  against  the  morning  light, 
you  could  hear  many  a  nutter  and  a  chirp,  which 
plainly  showed  that  sparrows  and  robins  and  such 
little  things  cannot  sleep  with  a  light  in  their 
rooms.  Cock-a-doodle  was  awake,  and  crowed  as 
if  he  thought  he  had  aroused  the  morning  — 
instead  of  the  morning  him  ;  and  the  pretty  gray 
and  brown  hens  looked  down  composedly  from 
their  roost,  and  waited  till  it  should  be  time  to 
get  up.  They  had  nothing  to  do  to  get  breakfast 
ready,  neither  they  nor  the  birds.  "  Behold  the 
fowls  of  the  air,  which  neither  have  storehouse  nor 
barn;   yet  your  heavenly  Father  feedeth  them." 


HARD      MAPLE.  9 

By  the  side  of  a  public  road  which  ran  winding 
up  and  down  among  the  hills,  stood  a  large  inn, 
where  the  people  were  all  astir,  early  as  it  was. 
Smoke  went  up  from  the  kitchen  chimney,  and 
lights  shone  out  of  the  kitchen  windows,  and  if 
Cock-a-doodle  had  seen  the  chicken  which  broiled 
gently  over  the  red  coals  on  the  kitchen  hearth, 
perhaps  he  would  not  have  felt  quite  so  cheerful. 

By  the  time  breakfast  was  ready  and  eaten, 
a  great  coach  came  to  the  door,  drawn  by  three 
brown  horses  and  one  white  one.  And  on  the 
porch  of  the  inn  stood  two  men,  ready  to  get  into 
the  coach  ;  and  more  than  that,  there  stood  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Rutherford,  with  Sybil  and  Chryssa,  all 
ready  to  get  in  too. 

The  children  were  well  muffled  up,  but  they 
stood  shivering  and  chilly  in  the  morning  air  — 
their  teeth  chattering  with  getting  up  so  early  and 
eating  a  candle-light  breakfast ;  but  full  of  excite- 
ment as  well ;  and  if  their  teeth  had  chattered 
a  little  less,  no  doubt  their  tongues  would  have 
chattered  a  good  deal  more.  As  it  was,  they 
looked   on   in    silence,   but   with    intense    interest. 


10  HARD      MAPLE. 

Every  thing  was  beautiful,  —  from  the  lumbering 
coach  with  its  yellow  sides  and  worn  leather 
curtains,  to  the  white  frost  that  covered  every 
blade  of  grass  and  clover  leaf,  and  even  spread 
itself  over  the  top  of  the  coach.  Then  the  great 
house-dog  came  marching  into  the  porch,  and  the 
children  took  hold  of  hands  and  drew  closer 
together ;  and  when  a  pretty  tortoise-shell  cat 
stepped  softly  in,  Chryssa  got  hold  of  her  at  once, 
and  had  warm  fingers  and  feelings  directly. 

Then  when  the  coach  was  quite  ready  they  got 
into  it,  —  the  two  men  on  the  back  seat,  and  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Rutherford  on  the  front — for  they  liked 
that  best ;  while  Sybil  and  Chryssa  sat  on  the 
middle  seat,  which  had  a  long,  broad  leather  strap 
for  a  back. 

The  coachman  put  so  many  trunks  on  the  top 
of  the  coach,  that  Chryssa  thought  the  roof  never 
could  bear  it ;  and  every  minute  she  looked  up, 
expecting  to  see  the  trunks  coming  down  on  ber 
head,  but  they  didn't  come.  Then  a  man  climbed 
up  to  the  roof  and  sat  there  with  the  trunks,  the 
driver  mounted  to  his  seat    and  cracked  his  long 


HARD      MAPLE.  11 

whip  over  the  heads  of  the  four  horses,  and 
then  they  were  off,  —  Chryssa  looking  out  of  the 
window  to  get  one  more  sight  of  the  little  tortoise- 
shell  cat. 

Now  the  sun  came  up,  warming  and  lighting 
the  tops  of  the  trees,  and  shining  between  the 
branches  into  the  very  eyes  of  the  little  birds ; 
then  it  crept  slowly  down  and  down,  and  sent  a 
beam  right  through  the  old  coach  —  in  at  one 
window  and  out  at  the  other.  The  coach  jogged 
on  more  merrily  after  that,  and  every  body  bright- 
ened up  and  looked  out,  to  see  how  the  sun  wiped 
away  the  white  frost,  and  how  green  the  grass 
looked  after  such  a  washing.  And  this  was  the 
fashion  of  their  journey,  —  for  now  they  were  off 
the  level  road  and  had  got  among  the  hills. 

Of  the  four  horses,  two  were  always  up  in  the 
world  and  two  were  always  down.  Sometimes  the 
wheel  horses  looked  from  the  top  of  a  little  height, 
upon  the  leaders  who  were  at  the  bottom ;  and 
then  when  the  wheel  horses  got  to  the  bottom 
themselves,  there  were  the  leaders  up  above  them, 
at   the   top   of    another   little   hill ;    whither    they 


12  HARD      MAPLE. 

must  climb  too,  and  drag  the  coach  after  them. 
The  coach  itself  could  not  exactly  follow  the 
example  of  the  horses,  for  it  was  all  in  one  piece ; 
but  it  did  what  it  could.  When  the  front  went 
down,  the  back  went  up;  and  the  minute  the 
front  went  up,  the  back  went  down.  Sometimes 
Chryssa  was  jumped  forward  head  first  into  Mrs. 
Rutherford's  lap,  and  sometimes  it  was  all  she 
could  do  to  keep  her  feet  any  where.  Sybil 
managed  better,  for  she  held  fast  of  the  coach 
leathers  all  the  while,  and  so  never  lost  her  seat ; 
but  to  pay  for  this,  when  the  coach  went  down 
in  front  the  two  men  came  down  too,  —  now 
against  Sybil's  head  and  now  against  the  leather 
back  of  her  seat.  On  such  occasions  Sybil  would 
shake  her  head  and  pull  on  her  bonnet,  and  wear 
a  very  fierce  look  which  was  meant  for  the  two 
men ;  but  as  nobody  saw  it  except  Mr.  Ruther- 
ford, it  did  no  great  harm  and  no  good  at  all. 
Once  Chryssa  turned  round  and  sat  in  Mrs. 
Rutherford's  lap,  to  rest  herself  and  keep  still 
for  a  while ;  but  it  made  her  want  to  laugh  so 
much,  to  see  the  two  men  come  bobbing  forward, 


HARD      MAPLE.  13 

that  she  was  glad  to  go  back  to  her  own  seat 
again. 

The  road  went  on  between  green  meadows  and 
fields  of  grain  that  were  greener  yet,  with  little 
brooks,  and  tall  forest  trees,  and  rail  fences,  and 
villages.  "Wherever  there  was  a  village,  the  coach 
stopped.  The  coachman  would  drive  furiously 
up  to  some  little  white  house  that  had  "  Post 
Office  "  written  above  the  door ;  and  then  he 
would  get  down  from  his  box,  drag  forth  a  great 
leathern  bag  full  of  letters  and  newspapers,  and 
fling  it  down  on  the  steps  of  the  little  house. 
Some  one  else  picked  it  up  and  carried  it  in,  and 
the  coachman  went  in  too,  and  sometimes  staid 
so  long  that  the  children  both  got  asleep.  Then, 
when  at  last  he  came  out,  he  had  another  great 
leathern  bag  in  his  hand,  and  when  that  was  safely 
bestowed  in  the  coach  they  set  off  again. 

"  Look,  Sybil,"  said  Chryssa,  —  "  see  those  chil- 
dren on  the  steps.  How  they  must  wish  they 
were  going  too  !  " 

'•Well,  lean  back,  then,"  said  Sybil,  "and  they 
won't  see  us  go." 


14  HAHD      MAPLU. 

And  both  the  children  leaned  back  against  the 
leathern  strap  till  the  post  office  was  out  of  sight. 

"This  isn't  a  nice  seat  to  lean  back  in,"  said 
Chryssa. 

"  Why  I  think  it  is,"  said  Sybil  —  "  good 
enough." 

"  O  well,  you're  taller,"  said  Chryssa,  "  but  I 
can  hardly  reach  the   back  at  all." 

"Never  mind,"  said  Sybil  in  a  confidential 
whisper,  — "  maybe  those  men'll  get  out  some- 
time, and  then  we'll  have  the  whole  coach  to 
ourselves." 

"  That  VrOuld  be  better  than  grandmamma's  car- 
riage," said  Chryssa,  "wouldn't  it?  It  would  be 
bigger." 

"Yes,  it  would  be  bigger,"  said  Sybil,  "but 
it  wouldn't  be  better,  —  it  wouldn't  be  so  good. 
Why  this  has  only  got  old  leather  over  the 
cushions,  and   the   coach   has   got   green   cloth." 

"  Well  the  coach  isn't  so  pretty  as  our 
barouche,"   said    Chryssa. 

"  You  don't  love  it  so  well,  but  I  guess  it's 
handsomer,"   said    Sybil. 


IIAKD      MAPLE.  15 

Chryssa  sat  silent  a  minute,  trying  to  think 
how   that  could   be. 

"  Sybil,"  said  she  suddenly,  "  suppose  you  tell 
me    a  story." 

"  What  put  that  into  your  head  ? "   said   Sybil. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Chryssa,  —  u  thinking  about 
the  coach,  I  guess;  and  then  I  thought  of  the 
stories  you  used  to  tell  me  when  we  were  going 
to  Cleveland.  Don't  you  know,  Sybil?  that 
one  about  the  two  grasshoppers?  O  that  wa3  a 
splendid    story !  " 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you  one  now,"  said  Sybil. 
"About   a   fly." 

"  About  a  fly  !  "  said  Chryssa.  "  That  one  on 
Aunt   Esther's   bonnet?" 

"  No,  not  that  one,"  said  Sybil,  "  because  he 
hasn't  finished  his  adventures  yet.  There  —  now 
he's   on   the   roof  of  the   coach." 

Here  the  coach  itself  gave  a  great  jolt,  and 
what  became  of  the  fly  nobody  knew,  but  Chryssa 
and  Sybil  tumbled  right  forward  upon  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Rutherford.  Nobody  was  hurt,  however,  but 
every  body  laughed ;  and  when  the  coach  got  back 
to  its  position  they  got  back  to  theirs. 


16  HA  HI)      MAPLE. 

"The  fly's  gone,"  said  Chryssa.  "But  as  the 
story  wasn't  to  be  about  that  one,  it  don't  matter. 
Now   begin." 

"  Once  upon  a  time,"  said  Sybil,  "  there  was 
a  fly  with   two    wings." 

"Why,  that  wasn't  wonderful,"  said  Chryssa. 
I   s'pose   he   had   two   eyes   too." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Sybil,  "  but  you'd  better 
not  laugh  at  the  wings.  They're  very  impor- 
tant." 

"Well  I'm  not  laughing,"  said  Chryssa — "and 
I   wasn't,   much.      Please   go   on." 

"  This  fly  set  out  on  his  travels,"  said  Sybil. 
"  He  got  tired  of  staying  at  home,  and  he  thought 
he  would  travel  about  and  find  other  countries 
where  there  were  no  spiders.  So  one  morning 
he   lit   on   a  stage   coach." 

"Maybe   it  was  that  very  fly,"  said   Chryssa. 

"No,  it  couldn't  be,"  said  Sybil.  "That  fly 
hasn't  finished  his  travels  yet.  It  might  have 
been   that   fly's   grandfather." 

"That's  very  funny!"  said  Chryssa.  "Well, — 
that  fly's  grandfather  got  on  a  stage  coach " 


HARD      MAPLE.  17 

"  Yes,"  said  Sybil,  "  and  at  first  he  sat  on  the 
coachman's  hat.  But  he  found  it  very  cold  up 
there,  and  besides  he  felt  afraid  that  the  hat  might 
blow  off." 

"  Well,  if  it  did,  he  could  fly  right  back  to  the 
coach,"  said  Chryssa. 

"  But  he  hadn't  found  that  out  yet,"  said  Sybil, 
<s  he  was  a  young  fly,  you  know  ;  and  besides  it 
was  cold ;  so  he  went  inside  and  sat  on  a  man's 
nose." 

"  Then  he  was  warm,"  said  Chryssa,  laughing. 

"  He  didn't  stay  long  enough  for  that,"  said 
Sybil,  "  for  the  man  knocked  him  off,  and  he  fell 
down  on  the  floor.  Then  he  thought  he  was  in 
a  miserable  condition ,  but  presently  he  smelt 
something  very  sweet ;  and  walking  about  he 
came   to   a  large  yellow  crumb  of  gingerbread." 

"  That  couldn't  smell  sweet,"  said  Chryssa.  "I 
don't  like  gingerbread." 

"Well,   the   fly   did,"   said   Sybil.     "You  know 

he   had  never  seen  any  before,  and  so  hadn't  got 

tired  of  it ;   and   he   began   to   eat   his   dinner  at 

once.     Suddenly  it   occurred  to  him   that  if  there 

2 


18  HARD      MAPLE. 

were  gingerbread  crumbs  in  the  bottom  of  the 
coach,  there  must  be  a  large  piece  somewhere. 
Up  he  flew  and  left  his  dinner  on  the  floor, 
and  lighted  on  the  very  piece  of  gingerbread 
his  crumb  had  come  from,  in  a  little  girl's 
hand." 

"Was  the  little  girl  all  by  herself?"  asked 
Chryssa. 

"  No,"  said  Sybil,  "  she  belonged  to  the  man 
with  the  nose." 

«0  Sybil!"  cried  Chryssa,  laughing,  "didn't 
they  all  have   noses  ? " 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  Sybil,  laughing  too,  "but  I 
mean  the  nose  that  the  fly  had  been  on." 

"Well,  did  the  little  girl  knock  him  off  too?" 
said  Chryssa. 

"Yes,  she  knocked  him  off,  and  he  came  back 
again  ;  and  then  she  held  the  piece  of  gingerbread 
up  to  the  window,  so,  —  look,  Chryssa,  —  and  gave 
him  a  great  knock  out  of  the  coach,  —  and  there 
he  was  in  the  middle  of  the  road.  The  worst 
of  it  was,  he  was  in  a  mudpuddle." 

"  Then  the  coach  went  on  without  him  ? "  said 
Chryssa. 


HARD      MAPLE.  19 

"  Indeed  it  did."  said  Sybil.  "  How  was  he 
to   get  into   the    air   to   fly  after   it  ? " 

"But  what  made  you  make  such  a  short 
story  ?  "  said  Chryssa.  "  Ycu  needn't  have  killed 
him    so    soon." 

"Why  he  isn't  dead,  child!"  said  Sybil  — "at 
least  he  wasn't.  Don't  flies  ever  get  out  of  mud- 
puddles  ?  Give  me  a  gingercake,  Chryssa,  out  of 
the  basket." 

"But  you  haven't  finished  the  story,"  said 
Chryssa. 

"I'm  hungry,"  said  Sybil.  "The  fly  must 
wait." 

By  the  time  Sybil  had  eaten  half  her  ginger- 
cake,  however,  the  coach  stopped  at  a  larger  post 
office  than  usual,  and  every  body  got  out.  The 
children  jumped  down  very  gladly,  and  twisted 
and  stretched  themselves  into  all  sorts  of  posi- 
tions —  so  cramped  were  they  with  sitting  still 
all  the  morning. 

"  Just  think,"  said  Sybil,  "  this  morning  we 
were  so  glad  to  get  in,  and  now  we're  so  glad 
to   get   out ! " 


20  HARD      MAPLE. 

"  Because  we're  so  tired,"  said  Chryssa,  with 
another  twist.  "  What's  that  horse  doing  over 
there?" 

"  Why  the  people  are  taking  all  the  horses  to 
the  stable,"  said  Sybil.  "  Horses  can't  travel  all 
day   without   eating,   any  more  than  people." 

"  I  shouldn't  think  they  could  so  much,"  said 
Chryssa,  "because  they  do  all  the  work.  But  I 
mean  that  horse  that  stands  over  there  by  himself, 
—  he's  walking  the  whole  time,  but  he  don't  get 
away." 

"0  1  know  what  that  is,"  said  Sybil,  — " that's 
a  treadmill.  The  horse  steps  and  steps  on  the 
wheel  to  turn  it  round,  and  he  can't  stop,  because 
something  would  hurt  his  feet." 

"  Well,  don't  it  hurt  'em  to  go  on  ? "  said 
Chryssa. 

"  No,  I  guess  not,"  said  Sybil.  "  I  guess  it 
tires  'em." 

"  There's  a  peacock,"  said  Chryssa,  "  and  a 
guinea    hen.       What    a   funny   place !  " 

"  Come,"  said  Sybil,  « let's  go  in.  They're  all 
going,    and    Aunt    Esther's  waiting   for    us." 


HARD      MAPLE.  21 

If  Chryssa  thought  it  was  a  funny  place  from 
the  outside  view,  she  thought  so  still  more  when 
they  got  within.  They  went  into  a  little  parlor  to 
lay  off  their  things  for  a  while,  and  rest,  —  but 
Chryssa  could  hardly  find  time  to  do  any  thing  but 
look  about.  The  walls  were  covered  with  paper 
of  the  brightest  colors  —  blue,  red,  and  orange  ;  — 
great  bunches  of  hemlock  and  pine  hung  over  the 
looking-glass ;  and  higher  still,  some  white,  downy 
thistle  balls.  The  chairs  were  black,  and  painted 
with  red  and  blue  flowers ;  and  the  pictures  that 
hung  round  the  room  were  more  queer  than  all. 
Wild,  fly-away-looking  ladies,  on  wild,  run-away- 
looking  horses ;  gentlemen  in  very  strange  uni- 
forms, sometimes  on  horseback,  with  their  steeds 
rearing  up  on  two  legs,  and  sometimes  on  foot, 
holding  the  same  steeds  by  the  bridle.  Chryssa 
went  from  one  to  the  other,  and  then  back  again, 
—  standing  up  on  the  black  chairs,  and  laying  one 
of  her  little  hands  on  each  side  of  the  queer 
picture,  on    the    gay-colored   paper. 

"  Come,  Chryssa,"  said  Mrs.  Rutherford,  "  don't 
you  want  something  to  eat  ?  " 


22  HARD      MAPLE. 

Chryssa  left  the  fly-away  ladies  and  came  to 
the  table.  Some  one  had  brought  in  a  plate  of 
crackers  and  another  of  cheese,  and  a  large  apple 
pie ;  but  Mrs.  Rutherford  took  some  sandwiches 
out  of  her  basket,  and  on  them  they  made  a  very 
good  dinner. 


HARD      HAPLi;.  23 


CHAPTER    II. 

"  C m  UNT    ESTHER,"    said    Chryssa,   as    she 

j£x&s>  walked  about  the  room  with  a  sandwich 
in    her    hand,  "  what's    this    queer   box   for  ? " 

"What  box?"  said  Mrs.  Rutherford.  "I  am 
afraid,  my  dear,  tbat  some  of  your  crumbs  will 
grease   the  carpet." 

"  0  no,"  said  Chryssa,  turning  round  and  show- 
ing a  plate  in  the  other  hand ;  — "  see,  Aunt 
Esther,  I  don't  let  'em  fall.  But  I  mean  this 
box  in  the  corner.  It's  got  little  aprons  in  it  — 
pink  ones,  with  white  braid ;  and  socks,  and  caps, 
and  pincushions.  And  here's  a  red  satin  bag  in 
the    corner." 

"  Those   are    to   sell,"   said   Mrs.  Rutherford. 

"  0 ! "  said  Chryssa.  "  But  who's  to  buy 
them  ?  " 

"  Any  body  that  chooses,"  said  her  aunt  smiling. 
"  The  people  who  made  the  aprons  and  pin- 
cushions put  them   there  to  sell ;   and  when  they 


24  HAED      MAPLE. 

are   sold  the   money    will    be    given   to   the   poor, 
or  perhaps   to   some   benevolent   society." 

"  Have  you  bought  any  thing  ?  "  asked  Chryssa. 

"  No.  There  is  nothing  in  that  box  which  I 
want." 

"  But  I  thought  you  liked  to  give  money  to 
poor  people,"   said   Chryssa. 

"  So  I  do,  —  but  must  I  take  a  red  satin  bag 
in   exchange  ?  " 

"Why  no,"  said  Chryssa  laughing,  —  "I  s'pose 
you  needn't  unless  you  want  to.  But  I  thought 
maybe  the  people  would  feel  bad  to  come  in 
every   day   and   see   it   there." 

"Make  haste,  Chryssie,"  said  Sybil,  —  "they're 
bringing  out  the  horses." 

Chryssa   came   to   the   window. 

"  Those   aren't   our   horses,"   she    said. 

"Yes   they   are,"    said    Sybil. 

"  Why,  our  horses  were  three  of  'em  brown 
and  one  of  'em  white,"  said  Chryssa,  — "  and 
here's  a  grey  horse,  and  a  black  horse,  and  two 
spotted  ones," 

"Well    they're    our   horses,   for   all    that,"    said 


HARD      MAPLS.  25 

Sybil.  "  Don't  you  see  they're  standing  by  cur 
coach  ?  " 

"  I  -wonder  why  we  can't  have  the  first  horses," 
said  Chryssa,  —  "  they  were  a  great  deal  prettier." 

"  The  first  horses  are  tired,"  said  Mr.  Ruther- 
ford. 

The  fresh  horses  being  now  put  to  the  coach, 
the  coach  came  rattling  up  to  the  door  of  the 
little  tavern,  and  every  body  got  in.  And  this 
time  there  were  three  men  on  the  back  seat,  and 
another  man  who  took  his  place  by  Chryssa  and 
Sybil,  while  his  wife  sat  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ruther- 
ford. The  children  did  not  like  this  at  all,  and 
for  a  while  they  sat  whispering  to  each  other,  and 
saying  how  disagreeable  it  was.  But  presently 
Sybil  put  the  edge  of  her  bonnet  close  to  the 
edge  of  Chryssa's,  and  said, 

"  Chryssa,  I  don't  believe  we  ought  to  talk  so, 
—  of  course  the  poor  man  must  go  somewhere." 

"  Yes,  I  s'pose  he  must,"  said  Chryssa,  look- 
ing as  if  she  wished  the  "  somewhere "  was  else- 
where. "  But  what  made  you  think  of  that  just 
now  ?  " 


26  HAED      MAPLE, 

"  I  saw  Aunt  Esther,"  whispered  Sybil,  "  get- 
ting as  close  to  Uncle  Ruth  as  she  could,  just  to 
give  that  woman  more  room." 

"  I  guess  she'd  rather  sit  by  Uncle  Ruth,  though," 
whispered  Chryssa.  "  But  I  couldn't  squeeze  my- 
self up  any  more,  if  I  tried,  Sybil.  And  I  have 
taken  up  my  basket." 

"  Well,  suppose  you  were  to  sit  in  my  lap  ? " 
said  Sybil. 

"01  couldn't ! "  said  Chryssa.  "  You'd  let  me 
fall  out  of  the  window." 

And  then  they  both  laughed. 

"  "What  merry  little  folks  we've  got  here,"  said 
the  man,  looking  at  them  and  smiling.  a  That 
basket's  too  heavy  for  you,  child,  —  shall  I  hang 
it  up  ?  " 

"  If  you  please,  sir,"  said  Chryssa.  "  Only  there 
isn't  any  place." 

"  Where  there  isn't  a  place,  child,"  said  the  man, 
"  the  way  is  to  make  one."  And  he  took  from 
his  pocket  a  strong  piece  of  cord,  and  tied  it  to 
the  handle  of  the  basket.  Then  he  tied  the  other 
end  to  a  strip  of  leather  at  the  side  of  the  stage, 


HARD      MAPLE.  27 

and  there  the  basket  hung.  Chryssa  looked  up 
at  it  with  some  fear  at  first,  lest  it  should  fall ; 
but  though  the  basket  dangled  and  danced  a  good 
deal,  it  did  nothing  more. 

"It  can't  fall  till  the  cord  breaks,"  said  the 
man ;  "  and  the  cord  won't  break  till  it's  done 
more  work,  I  guess.  That  cord  came  off  a  pack- 
age of  tenpenny  nails,  and  I've  done  seventeen 
things  with  it.     This  is  the  eighteenth." 

Chryssa  and  Sybil  both  looked  up  with  very 
astonished  little  faces,  which  said,  as  plainly  as 
faces  could,  how  much  they  would  like  to  hear 
about  the  other  seventeen  things. 

"  Wide-awake  little  folks,"  said  the  man,  look- 
ing towards  Mr.  Rutherford.  "  No  objection  to 
my  telling  'em  a  story,  sir  ?  " 

"  Not  the  least,"  said  Mr.  Rutherford. 

"Well,"  said  the  man,  "when  the  nails  came 
home  I  couldn't  untie  the  knot ;  and  my  wife  said 
she  could ;  and  I  said  I'd  cut  it.  So  then  she 
said  I  shouldn't  —  and  just  went  to  work  at  the 
knot  harder  than  ever.  Of  course  it  came  untied 
—  every  knot  will,  if  you   try  the  right  way  and 


^o  HA  B  D      51  A  P  L  13 . 

long  enough ;  and  I  made  the  string  light  up  into 
a  bow  for  my  little  boy." 

"  Did  he  shoot  with  it  ? "  said  Chryssa. 

"But  then  how  did  you  get  the  string  again?" 
said  Sybil. 

"  I  told  him  he  was  to  shoot  into  the  chip  yard, 
and  he  shot  against  the  windows ;  so  the  string 
came  off  as  quick  as  it  went  on.  Then  my  little 
girl  was  sick,  and  I  took  the  string  and  played 
cat's-cradle  to  amuse  her.  Then  I  tied  an  apple 
to  one  end,  and  set  it  roasting  before  the  kitchen 
fire." 

"  Was  the  apple  for  her  too  ? "  said  Chryssa. 

"  No,  it  was  for  the  boy,  because  I  found  out 
that  he  hadn't  heard  me  tell  him  to  shoot  into  the 
chip  yard.  After  that  I  made  a  harness  for  the 
cat,  to  amuse  them  both." 

"I  shouldn't  think  the  cat  would  have  liked  it 
much,"  said  Chryssa. 

"  She  didn't  —  so  I  took  it  off  again.  Then  I 
tied  two  chickens  together  by  the  legs,  and  took 
'em  over  to  the  minister's  donation  party;  and  as 
it  was  a  pity  to  come  home  empty-handed  through 


HARD      MAPLE.  29 

the  woods,  I  tied  up  a  bundle  of  pine  knots  and 
brought  'era   home  for  my  wife  to   spin  by." 

At  this  point  of  the  story  the  stage  rolled  up 
to  the  door  of  one  of  the  little  post  offices,  and 
there  the  man  and  his  wife  got  out.  But  first  he 
untied  Chryssa's  basket,  and  set  it  down  on  the 
seat,  and   put  the  twine  in  his  pocket. 

"  What  a  funny  man  ! "  said  Sybil.  "  I  wonder 
what  the  other  times  were." 

"  But  what  do  you  s'pose  a  chip  yard  is  ? "  said 
Chryssa. 

"You  will  see  one  when  we  get  to  Hard  Ma- 
ple," said  Mr.  Rutherford. 

"  How  far  is  it  now,  Uncle  Ruth  ? "  said 
Sybil. 

"  About  four  hours,"  said  Mr.  Rutherford,  look- 
ing at  his  watch. 

"  Four  hours  !  "  said  Chryssa. 

"  Four  hours  !  "  repeated  Sybil.  "  Why  then 
we  sha'n't  get  there  till  after  dark." 

"  Fm  afraid  not,"  said  her  uncle.  "  Are  you 
very  tired  ?  " 

"I'm  stiff" — said  Sybil,  twisting  herself  about. 


SO  HARD      M  Ari.E. 

w  Stiff  with  sitting  so  long  on  this  leather  cushion 
in  one    position." 

"  I'm  tired  of  the  post  offices,"  said  Chryssa,  — 
"just  a  little."  „ 

""What  do  you  scmpose  people  did  before  there 
were  any  post  offices  ? "   said  Mr.  Rutherford. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Sybil.  "Weren't  there 
always  ?  " 

"  There  was  not  such  a  thing  in  the  world  a 
few  centuries  ago.  The  first  post  office  in  Amer- 
ica was  established  in  1710." 

"  Well,  how  did  they  do  ?  "  said  Chryssa,  leaning 
forward  from  the  leather  back,  and  trying  not  to 
feel  tired. 

"  Men  went  round  the  country  on  horseback, 
and  carried  the  letters  from  house  to  house.  Once 
a  week,  or  fortnight,  or  month." 

"  Then  they  couldn't  get  the  papers  every  day," 
said  Sybil. 

"  There  were  not  many  papers  to  get.  People 
in  the   country  only  had  them   once   in  a  while." 

"  That  must  have  been  very  queer,"  said 
Chryssa. 


HARD      MAPLE.  31 

"  The  sun's  going  down  !  "  said  Sybil.  "  I  see 
him  over  the  top  of  that  hill." 

"  If  there  hadn't  been  any  post  offices  now,  we 
should  have  got  there  by  this  time.  I  wonder 
if  we've  stopped  at  'em  all." 

"  Not  quite,"  said  Mr.  Rutherford  smiling,  — 
"  here   comes   another." 

"  If  we  were  letter  bags,"  said  Sybil,  "  we 
might  get  out." 

"  Or  if  we  were  bandboxes,"  said  Chryssa. 
"The  coachman  took  two  bandboxes  down  from 
the  top." 

"  Well,  you  may  get  out,  as  it  is,"  said  Mr. 
Rutherford ;  "  and  we  will  try  to  get  some  bread 
and  milk,  to  keep  us  alive  till  we  get  to  Hard 
Maple." 

"  I  guess  we  shouldn't  starve  if  we  didn't,"  said 
Chryssa  ;  "  but  it  would  taste   good,   too." 

It  ought  to  have  tasted  good,  for  the  bread 
was  light  and  white  and  the  milk  was  sweet  and 
yellow.  The  children  were  quite  brightened  up 
by  their  meal ;  and  when  the  coach  was  ready, 
and    they   went    to   get    in,    behold !    the   two   men 


32  HARD      MAPLE. 

had  gone  off,  and  there  was  nobodj  in  the  coach 
but  themselves.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Rutherford  sat  just 
where  they  had  before,  but  Chryssa  and  Sybil 
got  on  the  back  seat  and  curled  themselves  up  in 
great  comfort.  The  seat  was  wide,  and  the  cush- 
ions well  stuffed  ;  and  Mr.  Rutherford  fastened 
down  the  leather  side  curtains  to  keep  the  wind 
out  and  the  children  in.  Chryssa  and  Sybil 
thought  they  should  do  nothing  but  sit  and  talk, 
now  that  all  the  strangers  were  gone  and  they 
so  comfortable ;  but  presently  there  was  a  little 
silence,  and  then  Chryssa  came  full  tilt  against 
Sybil. 

"  What  can  you  be  about !  "  said  Sybil.  "  If 
I  hadn't  been  here  you  might  have  gone  out  of 
the  window  —  at  least  if  the  curtain  hadn't  been 
down." 

"  Well  I  didn't  mean  to,"  said  Chryssa ;  "  and 
I  don't  know  how   I  did  it,  either." 

Sybil  sat  still  and  watched  her  for  a  minute. 

"  I  can  tell  you  how  you  did  it,"  she  said,  — 
"now  your  head's  gone  off  t'other  side.  Chryssa, 
you're  asleep." 


HARD      MAPLE.  33 

"  No  I'm  not,"  said  Chryssa,  opening  her  eyes, 
which  immediately   shut  themselves   up   again. 

"  Yes  you  are,"  said  Sybil  decidedly.  "  If  your 
head's  going  about  at  that  rate,  Chryssa,  you'd 
better  put  it  down  against  the  cushion  so  it  can't 
go  about." 

But  Chryssa  was  far  too  sleepy  to  do  any  thing 
of  the  kind.  Therefore  Sybil  took  hold  of  her, 
and  pulled  her  gently  down,  and  pushed  her  back 
into  the  corner  of  the  seat,  and  put  a  shawl  under 
her  head  and  another  shawl  over  her.  Then  she 
pulled  a  shawl  over  herself  and  went  to  sleep  too. 

The  coach  rolled  on  as  fast  as  ever,  and  if  the 
horses  thought  of  sleep  they  didn't  dare  to  take 
it,  with  such  a  heavy  concern  at  their  heels. 
They  trotted  on  just  as  steadily  as  before,  and 
found  their  way  along  the  dusky  road  in  a  most 
surprising  manner.  For  now  it  was  quite  dark ; 
only  the  stars  were  bright,  and  gave  a  little  glim- 
mer of  light  for  people  to  see  by.  The  night 
birds  fluttered  away  from  the  road  side  into  the 
deeper  woods  as  the  stage  came  near ;  the  farm- 
house dogs  barked ;  and  the  frogs  and  insects 
3 


34  HARD     MAPLE. 

either  hushed  their  voices  amid  the  rolling  of  the 
wheels,  or  had  their  song  quite  smothered  and 
hidden  hy  the  noise. 

Still  the  children  in  the  stage  coach  slept,  with 
heads  against  the  cushions,  and  eyes  fast  closed, 
and  hearts  dreaming  peacefully  of  flowers  and 
cats  ;  until  at  length  they  both  woke  up  together 
and  quite  suddenly.  They  did  not  know  why,  but 
it  was  because  the  stage  had  stopped  ;  and  before 
they  could  think  twice  about  it,  they  were  lifted 
carefully  out,  and  set  down  on  their  sleepy  little 
feet  by  the  road  side.  Every  thing  was  very  dark 
and  quiet. 

"  What's  the  matter,  Uncle  Ruth  ?  "  said  Chryssa, 
rubbing  her  eyes. 

"  Are  we  there  ?  "  asked  Sybil. 

"Hush!"  said  Mr.  Rutherford  softly.  "Hear 
the  brook!" 

They  stood  there  in  the  dark  road,  with  the 
coach  wheels  dying  away  in  the  distance,  and  the 
coach  itself  quite  out  of  sight ;  with  the  rustle  of 
unseen  leaves  overhead,  and  the  song  of  unseen 
fross  afar  off;  and  before  them,  at  the  other  side 


HARD     MAPLE.  35 

of  the  road,  the  brook.  Rush,  rush,  it  came,  pour- 
ing along  with  its  full  current  rippling  over  the 
stones,  and  washing  the  green  leaves  that  dipped 
into  it  —  the  sweetest  of  all  fresh  things,  They 
stood  for  a  moment  silently  listening,  —  then  turned 
and  walked  up  to  the  house. 


36  HARD     MAPLE. 


1 


CHAPTER    III. 

'HEN  Chryssa  went  to  bed  that  night,  she 
thought  she  should  certainly  wake  up  long 
before  light  next  morning,  and  be  up  and  dressed 
ready  for  the  light  when  it  did  come.     But  instead 
of  that  she  lay  sleeping,  sleeping,  and  never  opened 
her  eyes  once  until  the  sun    himself  looked  in  at 
her   window,   to   see   what  she   could   possibly  be 
about.     How  she  jumped   up  then !  —  and   clam- 
bered over  Sybil,  and  got  down  to  the  floor,  and 
ran    away  to  the    window   to   look   out!      Yes,  it 
was    time    for    her  to   be   up   then.      The    green 
meadow  had  not  come  out  of  its  bath  of  dew-drops, 
and  every  blade  of  grass   glistened  and  shone  in 
the  cool  drops  of  water.      The  trees  swung  about 
in  the  morning  wind,  as  if  they  were  exercising 
gently  before  breakfast,  and  the  little  brook  was 
rushing  on  its  way  as  usual,  —  Chryssa  could  hear 
it  though  it  was  out  of  sight.     There  was  a  splash- 
ing of  water  quite  near  her  window  too,  and  when 


Hard  Maple. 


p.  37. 


HARD     MAPLE.  37 

she  had  looked  about  for  a  little  while,  she  saw  a 
tiny  clear  stream  of  water  pouring  out  of  a  brown 
trough,  and  spattering  away  on  the  boards  beneath. 
A  young  larch  tree  stood  near  the  trough,  and  its 
waving  leaves   looked  like  soft  green  feathers. 

A  little  further  off  was  a  brown  hen-house,  from 
which  the  hens  came,  one  by  one,  through  a  little 
door  —  hens  and  chickens  and  cocks.  Some  of 
them  immediately  began  to  look  for  grasshoppers 
in  the  wet  grass,  and  others  jumped  up  on  the 
brown  trough  and  dipped  their  bills  in  the  little 
clear  stream  as  it  came  flowing  through.  Then 
Chryssa  saw  that  there  were  several  troughs  lead- 
ing one  into  another,  first  on  this  side  of  the  fence, 
then  beyond.  Sbe  also  felt  quite  sure  that  she 
heard  a  little  pig  squealing  somewhere,  but  where 
she  could  not  see.  At  the  back  of  the  meadow 
rose  up  a  green  hill,  speckled  with  gray  rocks  and 
stretching  back  to  the  forest ;  and  over  the  forest 
trees  the  sun  showed  his  bright  face  very  plainly. 
And  on  the  green  hill  there  were  ever  so  many 
white  spots  —  and  the  spots  moved  about,  —  that 
was  the  6trangest  thing  of  all. 


38  HARD     MAPLE. 

"O  Sybil!"  cried  Chryssa,  "do  come  and  see 
what  these  white  spots  are,  —  they're  moving 
about,  and  they're  eating,  and  they're  running  — 
they  must  be  sheep  !  —  Sybil ! " 

Sybil  jumped  out  of  bed  too,  at  that,  and  came 
and  knelt  down  at  the  window  to  watch  the  sheep ; 
but  Chryssa  did  not  stay  there  much  longer,  for 
now  she  wanted  to  be  dressed  and  out  of  doors. 
Shoes  and  stockings  went  on  at  the  quickest  rate, 
and  so  did  every  thing  else  that  could  be  done 
quick  and  well;  and  then  she  went  out  into  the 
hall,  and  with  her  little  hand  clasping  the  balus- 
trade, she  went  down  the  wide  stairs  one  at  a 
time. 

Up  the  stairs  to  meet  her  came  a  sweet,  fresh 
breath  of  the  summer  wind,  telling  of  the  dewy 
grass  and  blooming  flowers  it  had  blown  over,  and 
the  sunbeams  it  had  met  on  its  way:  it  even  re- 
peated the  song  of  two  or  three  birds ;  and  when 
it  blew  in  Chryssa's  face,  and  pushed  back  her 
hair,  she  wondered  how  it  got  into  the  house. 
But  when  she  came  to  the  turn  of  the  stairs,  so 
that  she  could  look   down   to   the   front   door,  she 


HAKD     MAPLE.  39 

saw  that  it  was  wide  open ;  so  of  course  the 
wind  got  in  there ;  and  of  course  when  Chryssa 
got  to  the  door  herself,  there  she  stood  still  and 
looked  out. 

It  was  a  very  plain,  old-fashioned  door,  painted 
white,  and  with  a  very  black  knocker  in  the  shape 
of  a  lady's  face.  But  now  the  door  stood  quietly 
back  in  the  hall,  as  if  quite  sure  that  nobody 
would  want  to  knock  at  that  time  in  the  morning; 
and  the  wind  swept  in  and  out  just  as  it  chose, 
without  asking  leave.  Outside  was  a  little  porch, 
painted  white  like  the  door,  with  a  seat  at  each 
end  and  steps  in  front ;  and  outside  of  the  porch 
were  two  great  trees.  They  were  so  big  that 
Chryssa  could  only  see  their  brown  trunks  at 
first,  till  she  went  out  in  the  porch  and  looked 
up  ;  and  then  she  saw  that  the  trees  spread  out 
their  great  branches  over  the  house  and  far  off  on 
each  side ;  and  mixed  up  their  green  leaves  to- 
gether so  that  it  was  impossible  to  tell  which  was 
which.  Thei'e  was  a  deep  shade  under  the  trees 
at  midday,  but  now  the  sun  sent  his  rays  in  under 
the   branches,  and   made   long    yellow   streaks   on 


40  HARD     MAPLE. 

the  green  grass.  Even  the  brown  fence  at  the 
foot  of  the  grass  was  touched,  and  the  brook  — 
yes,  there  was  the  brook !  at  the  other  side  of  the 
road.  It  came  running  out  from  under  another 
fence,  sparkling  in  the  sun,  foaming  up  against 
every  large  stone  and  rippling  over  the  little  ones 
with  the  freshest  of  all  sweet  voices.  A  little  red 
and  white  calf  was  eating  in  the  field  whence  the 
brook  came,  and  a  black  calf  was  frisking  about 
instead  of  eating.  Under  one  of  the  great  elm 
trees,  too,  Chryssa  presently  saw  a  cat,  —  a  pretty 
tortoise-shell  cat,  not  eating  nor  frisking,  but  watch- 
ing, — <>•  looking  up  into  the  tree  as  if  her  breakfast 
was  there,  and  she  was  thinking  how  to  get  it. 
Then  a  grey  hen  came  stalking  along  through  the 
wet  grass,  keeping  a  sharp  lookout  for  grasshop- 
pers. 

"Chickie!  chickie  !  "  said  Chryssa, 

"  Cor-r-r-r ! "  said  the  hen,  turning  her  head  so 
that  one  little  bright  eye  could  see  Chryssa  the 
better. 

"  Poor  chickie ! "  said  Chryssa,  coming  forward 
a  step  and    holding  out  her    hand.       But  the  hen 


HARD     MAPLE. 


41 


seemed  to  think  that  was  quite  too  much ;  and  she 
ran  off  as  fast  as  she  could,  to  a  white  cock  that 
sat  on  the  fence  and  crowed  half  the  time.  Puss 
had  disappeared  too,  now,  and  Chryssa  turned 
about  and  went  back  into  the  house.  The  first 
room  she  opened  had  nobody  in  it ;  so  she  crossed 
that  to  the  big  kitchen  which  lay  beyond,  and  put- 
ting her  little  fingers  on  the  iron  latch,  pulled  it 
up  and   opened  the  door. 


There  were  people  enough  here,  and  busy 
enough,  too.  Great  sticks  of  wood  blazed  up  the 
chimney,  as  if  they  meant  to  burn  up  the  tea  ket- 
tle  instead  of  making  it  boil  ;  and  several  pans  of 


42  HARD     MAPLE. 

biscuit  stood  on  the  hearth  with  a  clean  towel 
over  them,  ready  to  bake  for  breakfast.  Miss 
Flint  was  at  the  table  moulding  out  more  biscuits, 
and  Mi*.  Ruthven  sat  in  his  arm  chair  in  the 
chimney  corner.  He  was  looking  gravely  at  the 
fire  when  Chryssa  came  in,  but  he  turned  round 
at  once  and  smiled  upon  her. 

"  Well,  little  dear ! "  he  said,  —  "  up  already  ?  " 

"  O  yes,"  said  Chryssa,  as  she  came  and  stood 
by  his  knee ;  "  I've  been  up  some  time.  I've  been 
looking  out  of  the  door.  Do  you  always  sit  by 
the  fire,  grandpa  ?  " 

"  Why  it's  cold  enough  for  a  fire  to-day,"  said 
her  grandfather;  "don't  you  think  so?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Chryssa,  "  it's  quite  cold  at  the 
door."  And  she  shivered  a  little,  and  then  smiled, 
for  Mr.  Ruthven  took  both  her  hands  and  began 
to  rub  them   in  his. 

"  Cold  enough  !  "  he  said.  "  What  were  you 
about  at  the  door  ?  " 

"  O,  I  was  looking  at  the  chickens,  and  the 
brook  —  and  every  thing,"  said  Chryssa,  gazing 
into  the  bright  fire. 


HARD     MAPLE.  43 

"  I  think  I'll  let  you  feed  the  chickens  and  fetch 
in  the  eggs  v/hile  you're  here,"  said  Mr.  Ruthven. 
"  Don't  you  like  to  be  useful  ?  " 

"  O  yes  !  "  said  Chryssa.  "  And  I  like  to  get 
eggs.  I  saw  a  cat  out  there  under  the  tree,  —  a 
tortoise-shell  cat." 

"  Yes,  that's  the  old  cat,"  said  her  grandfather. 
"  She's  got  a  dozen  kittens,  more  or  less,  down  at 
the  barn." 

Oh !  a  dozen  kittens ! "  said  Chryssa. 

"  Real  pretty  ones,  too,"  said  Miss  Flint,  as  she 
rolled  out  her  biscuit.  "  One  of  'era's  as  spotted 
as  a  little  pig." 

"May  I  play  with  'em  all?"  said  Chryssa. 

"  Why,  you  can't  catch  a  kitten  of  them ! "  said 
Mr.  Ruthven  laughing.  "  They're  just  as  wild  as 
hawks." 

"  Every  one  of  them  ? "  said  Chryssa,  looking 
dismayed. 

"  Every  one  of  them,  deary.  They  all  stay  out 
at  the  barn,  and  it's  as  much  as  I  can  do  to  get 
sight  of  'em." 

"Maybe  I  could  catch  them,"  said  Chryssa 
thoughtfully.     "May  I  try?" 


44  HARD      MAPLE. 

"  To  be  sure  ! "  said  Mr.  Ruthven  ;  "  you  may  do 
just  what  you've  a  mind  to,  with  every  cat  about 
the  place.  But  the  old  tortoise-shell  is  the  only 
one  good  for  any  thing." 

"  O  I'm  sure  I  shall  like  'em  all,"  said  Chryssa. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Ruthven  smiling,  "  they're  all 
yours.  But  we've  got  something  else  worth  all 
the  cats  that  ever  were  heard  of.  See  here  —  you 
go  into  this  pantry,  and  look  about  for  two  big 
stone  jars,  and  then  take  the  covers  off  and 
look  in." 

So  he  put  his  hand  back  and  opened  the  pan- 
try door  for  her,  (it  was  just  by  his  chair)  and 
Chryssa  went  in. 

The  pantry  was  long  and  not  very  wide,  with 
shelves  all  round  two  sides  of  it  and  part  of  the 
third ;  and  in  the  midst  of  the  shelves  a  window. 
The  window  was  open,  and  Chryssa  could  hear 
the  pattering  of  the  little  stream  upon  the  brown 
boards  down  by  the  larch  tree  The  pantry  floor 
was  painted  a  bright  yellow,  and  so  were  the 
shelves  ;  and  while  seme  of  the  shelves  were  load- 
ed with    great    ear:hen    pans  of   milk,  others  held 


HARD     MAPLE-  45 

nothing  but  cheeses,  —  cheese  after  cheese  stood 
there ;  some  deep  yellow,  looking  hard  and  old, 
and  others  creamy  and  soft  and  new.  On  the 
floor  under  the  shelf  by  the  window  stood  two 
great  stone  jars,  and  by  them  two  equally  large 
stone  jugs.  Chryssa  lifted  the  heavy  cover  of  the 
first  jar  and  peeped  in :  it  was  full  of  great  cakes 
of  maple  sugar,  each  almost  as  large  round  as  the 
jar  itself;  and  the  second  jar  was  just  as  full,  of 
the  same  sweet  things.  Then  Chryssa  covered 
them  up  again   and  came   out. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Ruthven,  putting  his  arm  round 
her  and  lifting  her  up  on  his  lap,  "  what  did  you 
see?     What  did  the  jars  have  in  them?" 

"  I  guess  it's  maple  sugar,"  said  Chryssa  smiling. 

"  I  guess  so  too !  And  what  do  you  think  is  in 
the  jugs  alongside  of  them  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Chryssa,  —  "I  didn't  look 
in." 

"  Well  you  couldn't  have  seen  much  if  you  had 
looked  in,"  said  her  grandfather;  "but  the  jugs 
are  full  of  maple  molasses.  And  whenever  you 
want  any  thing  out  of  either  of  'em,  just  go  and 
take  it," 


46  HARD     MAPLE. 

Chryssa  smiled,  but  to  say  truth,  she  loved 
kittens  so  much  better  than  maple,  molasses,  that 
she  began  to  think  of  them  again  directly. 

Then  the  outer  door  opened,  and  two  men  came 
in  with  great  wooden  pails  full  of  milk;  and  the 
milk  was  covered  with  thick  white  froth,  and 
looked  quite  delicious.  And  Miss  Flint,  having 
finished  her  biscuit,  went  into  the  pantry  to  strain 
the  milk,  and  Chryssa  sat  still  on  her  grand- 
father's lap  and  looked  at  the  fire ;  while  he  stroked 
her  hair  and  looked  at  her,  and  Chryssa  thought 
his  blue  eyes  were  the  most  beautiful  things  she 
had  ever  seen. 

It  was  a  great  matter  after  breakfast  to  know 
what  to  do  first,  and  Chryssa  sat  thinking  about 
it,  even  before  she  had  finished  her  last  piece  of 
bread  and  butter. 

"  Shall  we  go  right  down  to  the  brook  the  first 
thing?"  she  whispered  to  Sybil  as  they  left  the 
breakfast  table. 

But  Sybil  replied  with  a  great  deal  of  impor- 
tance, — 

"  You  can,  if  you  like,  Chryssa ;   but   I've  got 


HARD     MAPLE.  47 

to  help  Aunt  Esther  unpack  things  and  put  'em 
away." 

So  while  Sybil  went  off  up  stairs,  the  gentle- 
men sat  down  to  talk ;  and  Chryssa  after  looking 
at  them  once  or  twice,  opened  the  door  softly  and 
went  out  into  the  hall.  The  front  door  was  open 
still,  and  the  wind  came  in  as  sweetly  as  ever; 
and  Chryssa  went  into  the  porch,  and  then  tripped 
down  the  porch  steps,  keeping  carefully  out  of  the 
way  of  a  large  brown  and  black  caterpillar  that 
was  taking  a  very  brisk  walk  indeed. 

She  looked  down  at  the  brook,  and  up  at  the 
trees,  and  then  at  a  little  path  which  ran  round  the 
house,  —  so  she  ran  after  it.  It  went  quite  round 
to  a  little  white  gate  at  the  back  of  the  house ; 
and  at  the  gate  Chryssa  stood  a  long  time,  looking 
about;  every  thing  was  so  new  and  strange. 

There  were  pretty  little  tufts  of  grass  growing 
about  the  gate  posts  and  the  white  fence,  and 
even  a  tuft  of  clover  now  and  then,  or  a  head  of 
buttercups ;  but  beyond  the  gate  there  was  nothing 
but  chips.  Chips  in  every  variety,  —  large  chips 
with  the  bark  on,  and   little  chips  with  the  bark 


48  HARD     MAPLE. 

off,  and  pieces  of  bark  by  themselves,  and   splin- 
ters of  wood  by  themselves ;   all  mixed  and  min- 
gled and  lying  upon  other  chips  and  pieces  of  bark. 
Several   large  legs    lay  there  too,  crushing   down 
the  chips;  and  other  sticks,  smaller  and  longer, — 
and  a  bright  axe  leaning  against  one  of  the  logs, 
near  a  pile  of  wood  that  was  ready  cut  and  split 
for    the    kitchen   fire.     At    one    side    ran    another 
little  white  fence,  and  two  plum  trees  looked  over 
it  and  said  there  was  the  garden,  and  a  pea-vine 
peeped  through  and  said  it  didn't  care ;   while  at 
the  other  side  three  or  four  large  apple  trees  rose 
up  out  of  the  midst  of  the  chips,  and  were  cov- 
ered with  sweet  blossoms.     There  the  chips  ended 
their   possession,  and   the   ground   sloped   down    a 
steep  little  green  bank  into  a  broad  green  meadow. 
Just  opposite  Chryssa,  between  the  apple  trees 
and  the   garden  fence,  but  further  off  than  either, 
was    a    great  barn ;    and   on    one   side   of   it   an- 
other   long    barn    or    outhouse ;    both    looking    as 
brown   and   dingy   as   they   could.      Further   still, 
Chryssa   could  see  trees   and  rocks,  and  a   green 
side  hill,  and  fence?,  and  tufts  of  bushes. 


HARD     MAPLE.  49 

"  What  a  pretty  place  !  "  thought  Chryssa ,  "  and 
how  sweet  the  chips  smell  —  and  O,  what  a  beau- 
tiful piece  of  white  bark  ! "  So  she  stepped  for- 
ward among  the  chips  to  pick  it  up. 

It  was  smooth  and  soft,  and  of  a  pretty  while 
color,  with  little  streaks  of  dark  brown,  and  it  had 
a  sweet,  pleasant  smell.  Chryssa  stood  rubbing  it 
gently  in  her  hands,  and  smelling  it,  when  eud- 
denly  she  saw  something  stirring  behind  the  garden 
fence ;  and  the  old  tortoise-shell  cat  climbed  up  to 
the  very  top  and  stood  there  for  a  minute.  She 
looked  at  Chryssa,  and  she  looked  at  the  weather, 
and  she  looked  at  a  pretty  swallow  that  was  fly- 
ing about  overhead ;  and  then  she  jumped  down 
from  the  fence  and  walked  softly  across  the  chips 
to  the  barn.  Then  a  hen  which  was  in  the  barn 
began  to  cackle  as  loud  as  she  could,  and  Chryssa 
felt  quite  distracted. 

"  They're  all  down  at  the  barn ! "  she  said  to 
herself,  —  "I  wonder  if  I  mayn't  go  there  too." 

"Well  Chryssie,"  said  Mr.  Rutherford's  voice 
behind  her,  "have  you  found  the  chip  yard?" 

"  O  yes,  Uncle  Ruth !  "  —  and  Chryssa  turned 
4 


50  HAfiD     MAPLE. 

round  with  a  very  earnest,  excited  little  face, — 
"  isn't  it  beautiful !  And  the  old  cat's  gone  down 
to  the  barn." 

"Has  she?"  said  Mr.  Rutherford;  "then  I  sup- 
pose the  kitten  wants  to  go  too." 

"0  1  guess  the  kittens  are  there  now,"  said 
Chryssa  smiling.    "  But  I'd  like  to  go,  very  much." 

"  Off  with  you,  then,"  said  her  uncle,  "  as  fast 
as  you  like.  But  don't  go  any  further  than  the 
barn,  alone." 

"O  no,"  said  Chryssa,  "I  guess  I  shan't  want 
to  go  any  farther  in  a  great  while." 

And  away  she  went,  stepping  along  over  the 
pieces  of  bark  in  her  way,  and  looking  at  every 
one  of  them. 


HARD    MAPLE.  51 


CHAPTER   IV. 

]HE  chip  yard  was  on  the  top  of  a  little  hill, 
and  the  barns  stood  at  the  foot ;  and  from  the 
second  story  —  or,  as  the  people  called  it,  the  upper 
floor  of  the  big  barn  —  a  flat,  straight  bridge  of 
boards  came  over  to  the  chip  yard.  Chryssa 
thought  at  first  that  she  would  go  across  the 
bridge  and  in  at  the  big  barn  door;  but  the  door 
looked  large  and  heavy,  and  the  great  wooden 
latch  was  not  only  far  above  Chryssa's  head,  but 
was  also  much  too  large  for  her  fingers  to  lift,  if 
they  could  have  reached  it.  So  she  followed  the 
road  down  the  hill. 

There  the  garden  fence  came  to  a  sharp  comer, 
and  a  little  settlement  of  milkweeds  enjoyed  all 
the  ground  between  the  fence  and  the  road.  On 
the  other  side  Chryssa  could  look  right  under  the 
bridge,  and  see  the  trees  blowing  about  and  the 
long  grass  waving  in  the  meadow :  straight  in 
front  of  her  was  a  row  of  little  barns  and  sheds, 


52  HARD     MAPLE. 

with  an  open  door  in  the  middle.  Chiyssa  went 
on  at  once,  and  looked  in.  The  barnyard  lay 
there,  beyond  the  shed,  and  beyond  the  barnyard 
were  more  green  meadows  and  great  trees.  In 
the  shed  where  she  stood  was  a  little  green  wagon, 
an  old  red  sleigb,  and  an  ox-cart;  and  about  the 
ground  were  scattered  feathers,  here  and  there 
one.  Very  pretty  feathers  —  white  and  grey  and 
red. 

"Well!"  said  Chryssa. — "But  I  wonder  where 
the  cat  is?" 

So  she  went  in  a  little  further — then  she  stepped 
back  and  looked  up  the  road  to  where  Mr.  Ruth- 
erford stood  in  the  chip  yard,  —  then  she  went 
through  the  shed  and  into  the  barnyard.  There 
were  barns  and  sheds  on  every  side  of  it  but  one ; 
with  open  windows  into  the  hay  lofts,  and  straw 
scattered  about,  and  milking  stools  in  the  corner. 
Under  one  of  the  sheds  was  a  long  row  of  man- 
gers, and  when  Chryssa  went  over  there  and 
looked  in,  she  found  one  manger  half  full  of  hay, 
and  in  the  hay  a  pretty  black  hen  on  her  nest. 
Her  comb  was  very  red,  and  her  eyes  were  very 


HARD     MAPLE.  53 

bright,  and  she  and  Chryssa  looked  at  each  other 
for  some  time  without  speaking. 

Suddenly  Sybil  came  running  up  to  the  barn- 
yard fence  on  the  other  side,  calling  out,  "  Chryssa ! 
Chryssa ! " 

"I'm  here,"  said  Chryssa. 

"O  there  you  are!"  said  Sybil, — "come  quick  — 
crawl  under  the  bars,  Chryssie,  you're  so  little, — 
they're  going  to  feed  the  sheep.  Don't  you  want 
to  go?" 

"  O  yes ! "  said  Chryssa ;  and  she  crawled  un- 
der the  bars  (she  was  so  little)  and  ran  along  with 
Sybil  to  another  fence  at  the  side  of  the  barn. 
Beyond  this  fence  was  a  steep  hillside,  sprinkled 
with  apple  trees ;  and  low  down  on  the  hillside, 
near  the  fence,  there  were  many  large  flat  rocks. 

"  But  I  don't  see  the  sheep,"  said  Chryssa. 

"  Hush  ! "  said  Sybil,  —  "  they're  somewhere,  I 
s'pose,  —  grandpa's  going  to  feed  them." 

At  that  moment  Mr.  Ruthven  came  down  the 
hill  from  the  chip  yard,  and  in  his  hand  was  a  little 
rusty  tin  pan  full  of  coarse  salt.  He  stood  there 
by  the  fence  and  began  to  call.  — 


54  HARD     MAPLE. 

<(  Canan !  canan !  canan-nan-nan  ! "  and  Chryssa 
was  certain  that  she  heard  a  sheep  say,  "  Ba-a-a ! " 
in  reply,  —  yet  she  could  not  see  one  any 
where. 

"They're  up  in  the  woods,"  said  Mr.  Ruthven, 
getting  over  the  bars,  while  Sybil  and  Chryssa 
crept  under  as  before.     "  Canan !  canan  !  canan ! " 

"  Ba-a-a ! "  said  another  meek  little  voice  on  the 
brow  of  the  hill ;  and  Chryssa  looked  up  and  saw 
a  white  sheep  standing  all  by  itself  at  the  very 
edge  of  the  woods.  Then  another  sheep  appeared, 
and  another,  and  then  two  more  at  the  other  side 
of  the  hill;  and  when  Mr.  Ruthven  called  them 
once  more,  and  shook  the  pan,  and  began  to  pour 
out  the  salt  on  some  of  the  flat  rocks  —  scattering 
it  by  handfuls  —  the  sheep  came  running  down 
the  hill  in  long  lines,  on  the  little  sheep  paths. 
They  crowded  upon  the  rocks  where  the  salt  was 
till  each  rock  looked  like  a  mere  little  flock  of 
sheep ;  and  sometimes  two  or  three  sheep  were 
fairly  crowded  off,  and  jumped  down  and  ran  to 
another  rock.  Chryssa  could  hear  their  little 
feet  tramp,  tramp  over  the  rocks ;    and   now   and 


HARD     MAPLE.  55 

then  there  was  a  little  low  bleat  of  pleasure  and 
enjoyment.  Overhead  the  great  apple  trees  swung 
their  branches  softly  about,  and  shook  off  their 
pink  flowers  upon  the  grass  —  which  was  spotted 
with  dandelions  besides ;  and  the  sheep  kept  watch 
of  Sybil  and  Chryssa,  and  ran  off  very  fast  if  they 
moved  away  from  the  fence,  but  they  were  not 
afraid  of  Mr.  Euthven  at  all.  Then  when  they 
had  licked  up  all  the  salt,  they  began  to  scatter 
over  the  hillside  again,  and  to  run  off  to  the  woods. 

"  Grandpa,"  said  Chryssa,  "  why  is  that  one 
6heep  black,  and  all  the  rest  white  ? " 

"  "Why,  dearie,"  said  Mr.  Ruthven,  "  he  has  a 
black  coat  on  —  that's  all  I  can  tell  you  about  it. 
There's  one  black  sheep  in  almost  every  flock." 

"That's  very  funny!"  said  Sybil.  "They  ought 
to  be  half  black  and  half  white." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Mr.  Ruthven,  "  I  like  the  white 
ones  best." 

"  O  so  do  I,"  said  Chryssa,  "  a  great  deal ! " 

"How  they  love  the  salt!"  said  Sybil,  looking 
at  a  rock  where  one  sheep  stood  all  by  himself, 
licking  up  any  salt  that  might  yet  stick  to  it. 


56  HAIiDMATLE. 

"But  maybe  that  poor  sheep  didn't  have  any 
before,"  said  Chryssa. 

"  Grandpa,"  said  Sybil,  "  when  I  came  down 
here  a  little  while  ago,  I  thought  I  saw  in  one 
of  those  big  trees  by  the  barn  something  that 
looked  just  like  a  very  little  lamb." 

"OS"  —  said  Chryssa.  "  But  how  could  a  lamb 
get  up  in  a  tree  ? " 

"It  was  a  dead  lamb,"  said  Sybil.  "At  least 
it  looked  like  that." 

"I  dare  say  it  was  that,''  said  Mr.  Ruthven. 
"When  a  lamb  dies,  the  men  often  put  it  up 
in  a  tree ;  because  if  they  left  it  on  the  ground 
the  old  sheep  would  stand  and  mourn  over  it, 
until  perhaps  she  died  herself.  See,  there's  an- 
other in  that  tree." 

The  children  looked  up  at  the  tree,  and  then 
at  him  and  then  at  each  other,  but  they  did  not 
speak  a  word ;  and  as  their  grandfather  went 
slowly  up  one  of  the  little  sheep  paths  towards 
the  woods  they  walked  behind  him,  and  did  not 
even  stoop  to  pick  a  dandelion. 

It   was   very   sweet    on    the    hillside.      Besides 


HARD    MAPLE.  57 

the  apple  blossoms  —  which  were  perfume  enough 
to  bewitch  any  body — the  little  pennyroyal  started 
up  every  where  under  foot,  and  made  the  whole 
air  spicy.  The  apple  trees  went  no  further  than 
the  brow  of  the  hill,  and  beyond  there  was  just 
the  short  grass,  and  grey  rocks,  and  pennyroyal, 
with  the  white  sheep  sprinkled  every  where,  till 
you    came  to    the    edge  of  the   woods. 

"Sybil,"  whispered  Chryssa,  "I  guess  that's  just 
what  Aunt  Esther  would  do  if  one  of  us  died." 

But  Sybil  shook  her  head. 

"  She  might  want  to  —  I  don't  believe  she 
would.  She'd  say  it  wasn't  right,  Chryssie  —  if 
Jesus  had  taken  us." 

"  How  would  she  know  ?  "  said  Chryssa,  in  the 
same  whisper. 

"  She'd  believe  he  had,"  Sybil  answered  softly, 
when  she  had  thought  for  a  minute. 

"  Couldn't  she  be  sure  ? "  said  Chryssa. 

"If  we  were  very  good  children,  I  s'pose  she 
could,"  said  Sybil. 

And  Chryssa  thought  so  much  about  that,  she 
never  noticed  the  pennyroyal  again  for  full  five 
minutes. 


58  HARD    MAPLE. 

u  I'm  going  too  far  for  you  to-day,  little  dears," 
said  Mr.  Ruthven,  turning  round  towards  the  chil- 
dren. "  Can  you  find  your  way  back  to  the 
house  ?  " 

"  O  yes,"  said  Sybil.  "  May  we  go  home  through 
the  meadow,  grandpa?" 

"  Any  where  you  like,  dearie  —  only  don't  fall 
into  the  spring." 

"  O  no,"  said  Sybil  again ;  "  we'll  take  care." 
And  holding  out  her  hand  to  Chryssa,  they  went 
skipping  down  the  hill  together,  singing  as  they 
went,  — 

"  0,"  said  the  little  blades  of  grass, 

Growing  up; 
"0  how   the   spring  hours  pass, 
Buttercup ! 
Winds  come  and  whistle, 

And  birds  come  and  sing, 
And  the  early   time  of  life 
Is  a  very  sunny  thing  I  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  buttercup,  and  bowed. 

Very  low; 
"  And  joy  cometh  also  from  a  cloud, 
As  you  know: 
Soft  April    showers, 

And  sweet  drops  of  rain, 
How  they  make  our  faces   shine 
When  tho  sun  comes  out  again  I 


HARD    MAPLE.  59 

"I,"  said  the  buttercup,  "have  cheeks 

Bright  as  gold; 
They  hide  in  a  little  bud  for  weeks, 
Then  unfold. 
Spring  bade  me  hasten, 

Sunbeams  said,  '  Appear  1 ' 
And  therefore  came  I  forth 
At  this  early  time  of  year." 

Then  said  the  little  grass,  "And  we 

Were  called  too; 
Tho  earth  said,  '  Make  a  carpet  for  me, 
Fresh  and  new.' 
Cows  asked  for  pasture, 

And  sheep  went  to  look, 
And  we  gaTe  them  first  a  taste 
In  the  meadow  by  the  brook." 

The  side  of  the  hill  was  strewn  with  rocks  and 
stones,  round  which  the  green  grass  and  the  yel- 
low buttercups  and  the  white  daisies  grew  and 
flourished.  Little  tufts  of  clover  showed  them- 
selves here  and  there,  and  a  tall  beech  tree  rose 
up  at  the  foot.  But  before  the  children  got  to 
the  foot  of  the  hill  the  ground  got  wet. 

"  O  Sybil ! "  cried  Chryssa,  "  it's  just  as  wet  as 
it  can  be  !  " 

"Well  stand  on  the  stones,  then,"  said  Sybil, 
"till  I  go  and  see  which  is  the  best  way." 

It  didn't  look  wet,  —  the  grass  grew  green  and 


60  HARD    MAPLE. 

fair  between  the  gray  stones  ;  but  when  Sybil  put 
her  foot  down  on  one  spot  of  the  grass,  a  loud 
splash !  said  there  was  water  there  too. 

"  Well ! "  said  Sybil,  as  she  drew  back  her  foot, 
"  it's  good  my  shoes  are  thick ! " 

"  But  you  might  go  over  shoe,"  suggested 
Chryssa. 

"Indeed  I  might,"  said  Sybil.  "I  guess  I'll 
just  keep  on  the  stones." 

So  stepping  from  one  gray  stone  to  another, 
Sybil  went  carefully  on,  till  she  came  to  where  two 
or  three  large  moss-covered  rocks  stood  up  in  a 
circle  near  together.  There  she  stopped  and  cried 
out  with  delight, 

"  O  Chryssa !  come  here  !  I  never  saw  any 
thing  so  pretty  in  all  my  life." 

"With  all  haste  and  care  Chryssa  came  on;  try- 
ing with  her  toe  the  treacherous  green  spots,  to 
know  whether  they  were  grass  or  grass  and  water ; 
and  then  with  much  trouble  stretching  her  little 
foot  across,  to  some  stone  that  lay  at  a  most  uncom- 
fortable distance.  But  when  at  last  she  stood 
side   by    side    with    Sybil,    she   did    not   cry   out, 


HAED    MAPLE.  61 

but  was    perfectly  silent  with  delight  and  admira- 
tion. 

The  great  rocks,  now  close  at  hand,  seemed 
higher  than  ever,  and  were  nearly  up  to  Chryssa's 
head ;  and  between  them  lay  a  little  pool  of  bright 
water.  It  seemed  to  bubble  up  from  the  ground 
at  one  side,  and  at  the  other  ran  out  in  a  little 
stream  towards  the  house.  Great  patches  of 
olive-green  moss  half  clothed  the  rocks,  even  un- 
der the  water ;  and  a  few  little  fresh  green  leaves 
of  some  water  plant  grew  at  the  very  bottom  of 
the  pool. 

"  Here,"  said  Sybil,  after  a  few  minutes'  silence, 
"  here,  Chryssa,  we  can  come  and  sail  boats  ! " 

Chryssa  looked  all  admiration,  but  before  she 
had  time  to  inquire  where  the  boats  were  to  come 
from,  Sybil  went  on  to  explain  her  plan. 

"We  can  get  flat  chips  and  bits  of  bark  frcm 
the  chip  yard,  first,"  she  said,  "  and  so  by  de- 
grees we  can  learn  to  make  real  boats.  I  don't 
believe  you  can,  Chryssa,  because  you're  so  little, 
but  I  think  I  could." 

"0   yes,   I'm   sure   you    could,"    said    Chryssa, 


62  HARD     MAPLE. 

whose  ideas  of  Sybil's  power  were  quite  unlimited. 
"  And  I  can  pick  up  the  chips." 

"Yes,  that  would  be  a  very  good  way,"  said 
Sybil ;  "  and  we'll  begin  right  after  dinner." 

But  as  they  walked  home,  Chryssa  saw  the  tail 
of  the  old  tortoise-shell  cat  just  disappearing  under 
the  barn  ;  so  it  must  be  confessed  that  all  dinner 
time  she  thought  more  of  the  kittens  than  of  the 
boats. 


HAIiD    MAPLE.  68 


CHAPTER    V. 

RANDPA,"  said  Sybil  after  dinner,  « may 
I  have  your  old  knife  for  a  little  while?" 

"  Yes,  dearie,"  he  answered  —  "  you  may  have 
any  thing  you  want.     But  don't  cut  your  fingers." 

So  Sybil  took  the  old  knife  (which  indeed 
was  not  too  sure  to  cut  any  thing)  and  went  forth 
to  the  chip  yard,  followed  by  Chryssa. 

The  afternoon  sun  was  shining  warm  and  soft 
on  the  meadow,  streaming  through  the  old  apple 
trees,  and  lying  in  clear  yellow  bars  upon  the  chip 
yard ;  and  the  old  logs  lay  scattered  about,  as  still 
and  rough  as  ever.  The  apple  trees  were  full  of 
blossoms,  and  every  little  while  the  wind  shook 
off  some  of  the  sweet  things,  and  sent  them  flut- 
tering to  the  ground.  Far  down  in  the  meadow 
a  flock  of  ducklings  waddled  along  after  their 
mother  to  the  brook ;  while  in  the  chip  yard,  an 
old  speckled  hen  (well  satisfied  to  have  her  brood 
on  dry  land)   scratched    about   among    the   chips, 


P4  HARD    MAPLE. 

and    found    ants    and    grubs    for   a    dozen    downy 
chickens. 

On  one  of  the  logs  sat  Sybil  with  her  knife, 
and  Chryssa  with  chips  enough  for  a  whole  fleet 
of  boats.  They  looked  now  and  then  at  the  tree 
by  the  barn,  in  which  was  the  skeleton  of  the 
little  lamb,  and  it  would  have  made  them  feel 
sorry,  only  that  nothing  could  just  then  —  they 
were  too  glad.  Once  when  they  looked  up  into 
the  tree  just  over  their  heads,  it  was  full  of 
robins,  —  their  red  breasts  making  quite  a  show 
in  the  sunlight ;  and  a  phcebe  who  was  building 
her  nest  in  the  cow-shed,  came  out  and  sang  for 
them  several  times.  There  were  bluebirds  about 
too,  and  every  cock  on  the  farm  crowed  about 
once  in  ten  minutes,  lest  people  should  forget  his 
existence.  Across  the  road,  men  were  ploughing 
the  field  next  the  brook  meadow,  shouting  out 
their  orders  to  the  oxen  in  a  way  that  made 
the  children  laugh  every  time.  Little  butterflies 
flitted  about  the  few  tufts  of  clover  that  grew 
in  the  chip  yard,  and  grasshoppers  jumped  about 
in   the   spryest   manner   possible. 


HARD     MAPLE.  65 

"  Do  you  think  that  will  sail  ? "  said  Chryssa, 
when  she  had  watched  for  some  time  the  chip 
which   Sybil   was   shaping   with   the   dull   knife. 

"  It  will  float,"  said  Sybil,  bringing  the  little 
boat's  prow  to  a  point  with  great  expense  of 
strength. 

"  But  will  it  go  about  from  one  place  to  an- 
other?"  asked  Chryssa. 

"Why  yes,"  said  Sybil,  "for  I  shall  take  a 
long   stick   and   push  it." 

«0!" — said  Chryssa,  as  if  a  great  weight  was 
taken  off  her  mind ;  "  how  nice  that  will  be ! 
When    shall    we    begin  ? " 

"  Well  I  don't  care  if  we  go  now,"  said  Sybil ; 
"  I'm  about  tired  cutting.  I've  got  two  done,  you 
see,  —  that'll  do  to  begin  with.  The  masts  don't 
stand    up    very    straight,  but    no   matter." 

And  taking  up  the  two  little  boats,  Sybil  led 
the  way  to  the  little  spring  with  its  shore  of 
high  rocks.  The  water  looked  stiller  and  clearer 
than  ever,  in  the  afternoon  light,  and  the  moss 
at   the   bottom   was   like  a  velvet  carpet. 

•  Now,  Chryssie,"    said  Sybil,   "  we  must   name 
5 


66  HARD    MAPLE. 

our  boats,  —  it  would  be  very  inconvenient  to 
keep  saying  '  your  boat '  and  '  ray  boat '  —  they 
must  have  names.  I  shall  call  mine  The  Dol- 
phin." 

"What  for?"   said  Chryssa. 

"  That's  a  fish,  you  know,  and  fish  live  in  the 
water.  If  I  were  you  I  would  call  t'other  one 
The  Carp." 

"Well,  what  is  a  carp?"   said   Chryssa. 

"Why,  it's  another  fish,"  said  Sybil.  "When 
the  fair  one  with  the  golden  locks  was  on  her 
journey,  a  carp  raised  up  its  head  and  talked  to 
her.     Carps  do  a  great  many  things  in  fairy  tales." 

"01  remember  that  story,"  said  Chryssa ;  "  at 
least  I  remember  your  telling  it  to  me." 

The  Carp  and  the  Dolphin  were  carefully  put 
in  the  water,  where  instead  of  diving,  after  the 
usual  manner  of  fish,  they  really  floated, —  much 
to  the  satisfaction  of  their  little  owners.  What 
if  the  mast  of  the  Dolphin  did  lean  forward, 
while  that  of  the  Carp  inclined  very  much  to 
one  side  ?  —  the  tiny  craft  did  not  capsize,  al- 
though   loaded    with    two   or   three    small    stones 


HARD     MAPLE.  67 

apiece ;  but  went  gently  from  end  to  end  of  the 
little  lake,  pushed  on  by  a  long  stick.  Fair  were 
their  shadows  in  the  water,  —  fairer  still  the  re- 
flected heads  of  the  two  children,  showing  side 
by  side  with  the  moss-covered  rocks.  The  soft 
wind  brushed  their  hair  in  every  direction,  but 
they  knew  it  not,  —  they  were  completely  happy. 
Then  when  the  boats  reached  their  mossy  har- 
bour between  the  rocks,  the  load  of  stones  was 
taken  off,  and  a  snail-shell  and  bits  of  penny- 
royal   laid    on    instead. 

"  How  funny  that  looks  ! "  said  Chryssa.  "  I 
wonder  what  sort  of  things  people  put  in  real 
ships  ?  " 

"  0  they  put  all  sorts  of  things,"  said  Sybil : 
"  sugar,  and  tea,  and  coffee  —  and  velvet,  and  lace, 
and  mahogany,  and  people." 

"  Well,  we  can't  put  any  people  in  ours,"  said 
Chryssa,    "  they're    too   small." 

"  We  could  have  small  people,"  said  Sybil. 
"  I  could  cut  out  some  card-babies  —  little  boys 
and  men  for  the  sailors,  and  women  and  girls 
for   the   passengers." 


68  HARD    MAPLE. 

"But  then  if  they  got  wet"  —  said  Chryssa, — 
"  what   would   become   of  them  then  ? " 

"  O  then  they'd  be  drowned,  like  other  people,"  said 
Sybil,  —  which  was  a  most  satisfactory  conclusion. 

Meanwhile  tea  had  been  getting  ready,  for  the 
real  people  who  were  safe  in  the  house,  removed 
from  all  perils  of  shipwreck,  and  when  Miss 
Flint  had  covered  the  table  with  bread  and  but- 
ter and  milk,  and  cold  ham  and  cheese  and  rad- 
ishes and  cake  and  blackberry  jam,  she  thought 
she  would  go  and  find  the  children  before  she 
called  any  one  else  to  tea;  for  Miss  Flint's  heart 
was  much  softer  than  her  name.  She  soon  found 
where  they  were,  and  came  up  quite  close  to 
them  before  they  saw  her,  for  neither  Sybil  nor 
Chryssa  could  look  at  any  thing  but  their  boats 
for  a  moment.  So  there  is  no  telling  how  long 
Miss  Flint  might  have  stood  there  unnoticed,  if 
she  had  not  spied  the  Dolphin  and  Carp  sailing 
about  among  the  shadows  of  the  rocks  and  the 
children's  heads  in  the  water. 

"  Well,  I  should  like  to  know  what  you're  do- 
ing ! "  she  said. 


HARD     MAPLE.  69 

"  Why  we're  sailing  boats ! "  said  both  the  young 
ones,  in  a   tone   of  full   complacency. 

"  Boats !  I  want  to  know  if  you  call  them 
boats?"   said  Miss  Flint. 

Sybil  looked  up  very  quick,  and  then  down 
again,  but  she  did  not  speak,  for  she  was  afraid 
she  should  say  too  much:  to  be  sure,  the  boats 
were  pretty  rough,  but  she  had  made  them,  and 
did   not    care    to    have    them   laughed   at. 

Chryssa  looked  up  too,  but  her  childish  eyes 
went  back  to  the  Dolphin  and  Carp  with  new 
admiration,  as  she  said, 

"0  they  sail  beautifully,  Miss  Flint!" 
"Well  now,"  said  Miss  Flint,  relenting  a  little, 
"  why  don't  you  get  Aaron  to  make  you  some  real 
boats  ?      He'll  whittle  'em  out  till  they  look  like  a 
picture." 

"  Who  is  Aaron  ?  "    said  Chryssa. 
"  Why,  he's  one  of  your  grandpa's  men,  child  — 
wears  all   the    red    hair    he   can    get  on  his  face. 
You   tell   him   to   make   you    some  boats." 

"I  suppose  Uncle  Ruth  would  make  us  some," 
said  Sybil,  a  little  doubtful  of  asking  favors  of 
Aaron. 


70  HARD     MAPLE. 

"  Well,  just  as  you  like  —  it's  nothing  to  me, 
I'm  sure,"  said  Miss  Flint.  "But  I'll  tell  you 
what  is,  and  that's  tea.  So  come  along  as  fast 
as  you  can,  —  the  sun's  most  down,  and  there's 
the  milk." 

And  Miss  Flint  crossed  the  little  field  with 
great  steps,  while  the  children,  having  laid  their 
long  sticks  side  by  side  near  the  rocks,  took  up 
the  Dolphin  and  Carp  and  came  after.  And  as 
they  crossed  the  chip  yard  there  came  a  man  up 
the  road  from  the  brook  meadow,  wearing  a  very 
red  beard,  and  carrying  two  yellow  wooden  pails 
of  white  milk.  Then  Chryssa  whispered  to  Sybil 
that  she  thought  that  must  be  Aaronf — to  which 
Sybil  replied, 

"Very  likely." 


HARDMAPLE.  71 


CHAPTER   VI. 

HRYSSA,"  said  Mrs.  Rutherford  after  break- 
%*P  fast  next  day,  "  if  you  want  to  be  useful 
you  may  take  that  little  tin  pail  and  go  down  to 
the  brook  and  get  it  full  of  water  for  me." 

"Why  don't  you  have  some  from  the  spout, 
Aunt  Esther?"   said  Sybil. 

"That  is  hard  water,  and  the  brook  water  is 
soft.  Don't  go  unless  you  want  to,  Chryssa.  I 
thought  you  would  like  it." 

"0  I  do  like  it  dearly,"  said  Chryssa.  But  I 
thought  all  water  was  soft  —  I'm  sure  it  feels 
soft."  And  she  took  up  the  little  tin  pail,  and 
half  danced,  half  walked  down  the  little  path 
which  led  to  the  road,  till  she  came  to  the  gate. 
The  fastening  of  the  gate  was  pretty  high,  but 
she  reached  it,  opened  the  gate,  crossed  the  road, 
and  stood  at  the  edge  of  the  brook. 

When  Chryssa  first  set  out  from  the  house,  she 
thought   she   could  just   as  well   get  two  pails  of 


72  HARD     MAPLE. 

water  as  one,  but  now  she  began  to  fear  that 
one  would  be  more  than  she  could  manage.  The 
brook  was  not  deep,  she  could  see  every  stone 
and  pebble  at  the  bottom ;  but  it  rushed  out  from 
under  the  fence,  and  foamed  and  tumbled  along 
in  a  way  that  was  noisy  at  least ;  and  Chryssa 
was  afraid  it  would  run  off  with  her  pail  if  she 
gave  it  the  smallest  chance.  The  rushes  and  flow- 
ers and  grass  at  the  edge  of  the  water,  bent  down 
and  dipped  their  heads  in,  and  the  brook  caught 
them  and  swept  them  along  as  if  it  would  fain 
carry  them  off  altogether,  but  they  were  too  fast 
at  the  root.  Now  and  then  a  chip  came  sailing 
down  under  the  fence,  and  from  the  side  of  a 
great  stone  the  little  trout  and  dace  danced  in 
and  out  from  shadow  to  sunshine.  Chryssa  stood 
and  looked  —  then  she  stooped  down  and  touched 
the  side  of  her  pail  to  the  water.  But  O,  how 
strong  the  water  was !  how  much  stronger  than 
Chryssa's  little  hand !  It  was  all  she  could  do 
to  keep  the  pail  still,  and  the  brook  foamed 
and  bubbled  up  around  it,  and  seemed  to  say, 
"  I'll  have  you  presently ! "  —  and  the  brook  spoke 


HARD      MAPLE.  73 

true.  For  when  Chryssa  took  the  pail  up,  and 
then  softly  dipped  it  down  so  that  the  water  could 
go  in  —  the  water  went  at  it  with  a  rush,  —  away 
sailed  the  pail,  and  the  brook  danced  and  laughed 
to  think  of  Chryssa's  trying  to  get  some  of  its 
bright  water.  But  Chryssa  did  not  laugh;  she 
6tood  and  looked  at  the  pail  very  soberly. 

It  could  not  go  far  —  that  was  one  comfort,  for 
the  brook  soon  turned  off  under  another  bit  of  the 
fence  into  the  next  meadow ;  and  as  the  sticks  of 
the  fence  were  low  down,  they  caught  the  runa- 
way pail  and  held  it  fast.  But  it  was  further  off 
from  Chryssa  than  ever,  —  so  the  next  thing  Sybil 
and  Mrs.  Rutherford  saw,  was  Chryssa  herself 
at  the  front  door  —  but  without  her  pail. 

"  Where's  the  tin  pail  ?  "  said  Sybil. 

"Why,  it's  in  the  brook,"  said  Chryssa;  "be- 
cause when  I  dipped  it  down,  the  brook  got  it 
away  from  me.     But  it's  safe." 

"  Well  how  do  you  like  getting  pails  of  water  ?  " 
said  Sybil,  laughing. 

"  I  like  it  very  much,"  said  Chryssa.  "  Only  I 
wish  I  had  the  pail." 


74  HARD      MAPLE, 

Sybil  ran  down  the  path,  and  Chryssa  after 
her,  and  Mrs.  Rutherford  went  too,  and  with  a 
long  stick  soon  hooked  up  the  tin  pail  out  of  the 
water  and  then  filled  it;  but  Chryssa  would  let 
no  one  but  herself  carry  it  up  to  the  house. 

"  Where  does  the  brook  come  from,  Aunt  Es- 
ther?" she  said,  as  she  set  down  the  pail  on  the 
kitchen  floor  and  brushed  a  few  wet  drops  from 
her  apron. 

"It  comes  from  a  great  lake,"  said  Mrs.  Ruth- 
erford.    "Some  day  I'll  take  you  up  to  see  it." 

"  Some  day,"  said  Chryssa,  —  "  well,  I  guess  I'll 
go  now  and  see  if  I  can  find  the  kittens." 

The  old  barn  where  the  kittens  lived,  stood  at 
the  edge  of  a  little  hill,  so  that  while  the  lower 
floor  opened  upon  the  barnyard  on  the  meadow 
level,  the  upper  floor  was  as  high  as  the  top  of 
the  hill;  and  from  the  upper  door  to  the  hill 
there  was  a  wooden  bridge.  The  barn  itself  was 
built  upon  separate  piles  of  stones,  instead  of  a 
stone  wall,  which  left  a  free  passage  under  it  for 
any  thing  that  was  not  very  big.  Under  there 
the   hens   sometimes   made    their   nests,   there   the 


HARD      MAPLE.  <  O 

kittens  lived  when  they  were  at  home,  and  Chryssa 
herself  might  have  gone  under  to  look  for  them  ; 
but  she  thought  that  would  frighten  them  too 
much.  Therefore  she  placed  herself  under  the 
wooden  bridge  and  peeped  round  the  corner;  for 
it  was  very  desirable  to  get  sight  of  the  kittens, 
and  find  out  how  many  there  were,  and  how 
large,  and  what  were  their  colours,  before  she  tried 
to  catch  one.  The  kittens,  however,  did  not  seem 
to  approve  of  her  plan,  or  else  it  was  their  time 
for  taking  a  nap,  for  not  one  could  she  see.  She 
stood  there  in  the  shade  of  the  wooden  bridge 
(much  to  the  astonishment  and  discomposure  of 
two  phoebes  who  were  building  under  the  timbers) 
and  watched  and  waited,  but  to  no  purpose. 
Sometimes  she  thought  she  would  go  and  look 
under,  between  the  stone  piers,  but  then  if  the 
kittens  should  be  on  their  way  out,  and  should 
see  her,  and  be  frightened,  there  would  be  no 
telling  when  she  might  get  sight  of  them  again : 
at  the  same  time,  it  ivas  veiy  tiresome  to  stand 
so  carefully  and  so  still  under  the  bridge. 

The  sheep  were  feeding  quietly  on  the  hillside, 


76  HAUD      MAPLE. 

and  every  now  and  then  Chryssa  could  hear  «t 
hen  cackle  and  fly  up  in  the  hay  to  her  nest,  or 
another  one  cackle  and  fly  down;  while  the  two 
phoebes,  having  at  last  got  used  to  her  as  one  of 
the  necessary  evils  of  life,  went  on  with  their 
building  and  forgot  her.  Softly  the  warm  breeze 
came  down  the  little  hill  and  waved  the  blades  of 
grass  and  the  daisies  ;  slowly  the  shadow  of  the 
wooden  bridge  stretched  away  eastward  as  the 
afternoon  sun  crept  under  it,  and  very  softly 
Chryssa  sighed  to  herself  and  wished  the  kittens 
would  come. 

At  last  she  saw  —  not  the  kittens,  but  the  old 
cat,  who  came  walking  down  the  hill  from  the 
chip  yard  with  a  large  mouse  in  her  mouth;  and 
as  she  came  on  she  called  to  her  kittens  with  a 
very  muffled  sort  of  mew,  because  of  the  mouse  in 
her  mouth.  Then  Chryssa  heard  presently  ever 
so  many  of  the  prettiest  little  mews  that  could 
be,  not  muffled  a  bit,  but  clear  and  bright;  and 
6oon  a  little  white  pair  of  ears  stuck  themselves 
out  from  under  the  barn,  and  then  a  gray  head, 
and  then  she  saw  the  whisk  of  a  little  black  tail, 


HARD     MAPLE.  77 

At  last  as  the  old  cat  got  very  near,  five  little 
kittens  came  prancing  out,  and  one  of  them  was 
as  white  as  milk  ! 

If  any  body  could  have  seen  Chryssa's  face 
then,  the  sight  would  have  been  almost  as  good 
as  that  of  the  kittens,  for  her  cheeks  were  flushed, 
and  her  eyes  sparkled,  and  she  hardly  dared  to 
breathe  lest  the  kittens  should  hear  her.  How 
they  tumbled  about  the  old  cat !  and  played  with 
her  tail,  and  turned  somersets  in  the  green  grass  ! 
while  old  Puss  herself  marched  steadily  on,  mouse 
in  mouth,  till  she  reached  the  barn,  walked  right 
under  it  —  and  in  a  second  every  kitten  had  van- 
ished !  Then  Chryssa  did  go  down  and  look 
under  too,  but  she  could  not  see  in  which  corner 
they  were. 

"Well,"  she  thought  to  herself,  "I  think  I've 
seen  enough  for  one  day!"  —  though  it  was  per- 
fectly true  that  she  wanted  very  much  to  see 
more. 

So  after  she  had  watched  the  kittens  in  this 
way  for  a  while,  going  to  the  barn  very  regularly 
every  day,  Chryssa  began  to  wonder  whether  she 


78  HARD      MAPLE. 

could  not  make  believe  that  she  was  the  old 
cat,  and  so  make  the  kittens  come  out  to  see 
her.  And  one  morning  when  old  Mrs.  Tortoise- 
shell  was  eating  a  late  breakfast  in  the  kitchen, 
Chryssa  went  softly  out  and  ran  down  to  the 
barn.  There  she  crouched  down  close  to  the 
corner  of  the  wall  and  began  to  call  the  kittens, 
as  near  like  the  old  cat  as  she  could ;  twisting 
her  little  mouth  into  all  sorts  of  endeavours  to  say 
"  Ma-ow  "  properly.  And  either  the  kittens  knew 
very  little  of  the  world,  or  else  Chryssa  was  some- 
thing of  a  cat  herself;  for  the  first  thing  she 
knew  a  black  kitten  stuck  its  head  out  from  under 
the  barn,  and  said  "  mew ! "  in  a  very  small  voice 
indeed.  How  delighted  Chryssa  was !  even  though 
the  little  black  head  went  in  again  as  quick  as  it 
had  come  out.  How  she  laughed  to  herself! 
Again  and  again  she  repeated  the  call,  and  soon  the 
white  kitten  looked  out,  and  then  the  yellow  one. 
Chryssa  kept  perfectly  still,  and  once  when  there 
were  no  heads  visible  she  stretched  out  her  hand 
and  held  it  just  over  the  place  where  they  should 
appear.     Then  when  the  white  kitten  peeped  cau- 


HARD     MAPLE-  79 

tiously  out,  Chryssa's  hand  slid  softly  down  till  it 
almost  reached  the  soft  white  neck  of  the  unsus- 
pecting kitten.  Almost,  —  but  just  as  she  thought 
her  prize  sure,  kitty  looked  up,  and  seeing  Chryssa 
she  dashed  back  in  a  great  hurry;  and  neither 
white  nor  black  would  come  out  again  that  day. 
Not  even  when  Mrs.  Tortoiseshell  came  walking 
down  the  hill,  and  mewed  in  her  own  proper 
person,  could  Chryssa  see  even  a  whisker  of  one 
of  the  young  ones. 

But  this  became  her  regular  amusement;  and 
whoever  went-  to  seek  her  if  she  was  off  by  her- 
self, was  pretty  sure  to  find  her  by  the  old  barn 
wall,  making  vain  attempts  to  catch  the  kittens. 
Sometimes  her  hand  would  just  touch  the  soft  ear 
or  the  long  tail  of  some  little  puss,  but  catch  them 
she  never  did ;  they  were  always  too  quick  for 
her.  Neither  did  she  ever  get  tired  watching, 
—  not  even  Mrs.  Tortoiseshell  herself  thought  the 
kittens  better  worth  time  and  attention. 


80~  HARD      MAPLE. 


V 


CHAPTER    VII. 

NE  day  a  swallow  fell  down  the  chimney. 
Which  was  not  his  fault,  but  his  mother's. 
For  when  Mrs.  Swallow  chose  to  build  her  nest 
in  a  chimney  instead  of  a  tree,  and  to  build  it 
moreover  of  glue  and  sticks,  she  might  have 
known  that  a  good  heavy  rain  would  perhaps 
soften  the  glue  and  make  it  fall  to  pieces.  Also 
when  she  made  her  nest  very  shallow  instead  of 
very  deep,  she  might  have  known  that  such  hare- 
brained things  as  young  swallows  would  perhaps 
climb  up  to  the  edge  and  fall  over. 

I  don't  know  which  way  the  misfortune  hap- 
pened,—  but  one  morning  when  Chryssa  came  down 
stairs,  there  lay  a  young  swallow  on  the  hearth  in 
the  parlour.  He  was  a  very  ugly  youngster,  and 
did  not  resemble  his  mother  in  the  least ;  for 
whereas  she  had  bright  eyes,  and  blue-black 
plumage,  swift  wings  and  a  long  forked  tail;  he 
could   plume    himself    upon    nothing,    had   neither 


HARD     MAPLE  81 

wings  noi'  tail,  and  even  his  eyes  were  shut  up 
tight.  A  large  mouth  he  had,  —  and  the  minute 
Chryssa  touched  him  he  opened  it  as  wide  as  he 
could,  which  startled  her  very  much.  Even  she 
could  not  say  he  was  pretty,  but  she  felt  very 
sorry  for  him,  nevertheless.  So  —  partly  because 
Chryssa  pitied  him,  partly  because  she  pitied  him 
herself — Mrs.  Rutherford  got  a  little  basket  and 
put  some  cotton  in  it,  and  laid  the  swallow  on 
the  cotton  and  covered  him  up.  And  for  a  while 
he  was  quiet,  but  then  he  began  to  scream  every 
few  minutes,  in  a  way  that  went  through  Chryssa's 
head  and  her  heart  too. 

"  What  can  make  him  do  so  ? "   she  said. 

"  Why  he's  hungry,  that's  all,"  said  Miss  Flint. 
"  If  he'd  been  in  the  nest  all  this  time,  he'd  have 
eaten  a  dozen  flies,  more  or  less." 

"  A  dozen  flies  ! "  cried  Chryssa. 

"Why  yes,  to  be  sure,"  said  Miss  Flint.  "What 
do  you  s'pose  swallows  live  on  ? " 

And  stepping  up  to  the  kitchen  window  Miss 
Flint  caught  a  fly,  walked  up  to  the  basket  and 
uncovered  the  swallow.  Then  she  touched  his 
6 


82  HARD     MAPLE. 

little  bill  with  the  fly,  and  the  moment  the  swal- 
low felt  it  —  or  smelt  it  —  he  threw  back  his  head 
and  opened  his  mouth,  and  Miss  Flint  dropped 
the  fly  right  down  his  throat.  Whereupon  he 
shut  up  his  mouth  again. 

"  Can't  we  feed  him  with  any  thing  else  ?  "  said 
Chryssa,  who  was  much  interested  in  the  whole 
proceeding,  but  felt  quite  sure  she  could  never 
catch   flies   for   him. 

"  Yes,  you  can  give  him  worms  if  you've  a 
mind,"  said  Miss  Flint.  And  she  caught  another 
fly,  which  he  swallowed  in  like  manner,  and  then 
she  gave  him  a  drop  of  water  from  the  end  of  her 
finger. 

"But  won't  he  eat  bread?"  said  Chryssa.  To 
which  Miss  Flint  replied,  that  he  wouldn't  eat 
it — if  it  was   cake. 

"But  why?"  said  Chryssa. 

"  Because  he  isn't  a  sparrow,  child." 

"  I  wish  he  was  a  sparrow,"  said  Chryssa,  look- 
ing at  the  swallow  with  some  disapprobation. 

"  If  he  was  he  wouldn't  have  fallen  down  chim- 
ney," said  Miss  Flint. 


HARD    MAPLE.  83 

"  Why  not  ?  "  said  Chryssa. 

"  Why  he  wouldn't  have  been  up  there  to  fall 
down,"  said  Miss  Flint  laughing. 

"  0  "  —  said  Chryssa,  —  "  that's  what  you  mean. 
Well,  I  wish  he  could  eat  bread !  Because  we've 
got  to  keep  him  and  feed  him  till  he  gets  to  be 
a  big  swallow." 

"I  guess  you  won't  have  to  keep  him  long," 
said  Miss  Flint,  —  "  he  may  want  something  else. 
Perhaps  too  many  flies  won't  agree  with  him, 
and   his   health   may   require   caterpillars." 

"  Well,  we  can  try,"  said  Chryssa,  looking  at 
the  little  bird  and  thinking  what  a  pity  it  was 
he  was  not  prettier,  and  what  a  dreadful  thing  it 
must  be  to  take  caterpillars  for  medicine. 

"All  young  birds  are  just  as  ugly,  Chryssie," 
said  her  aunt  smiling,  —  "none  of  them  have  any 
feathers    at   first." 

Whether  the  flies  agreed  with  the  swallow  or 
not,  he  agreed  with  them,  —  there  was  no  end  to 
his  appetite;  and  if  he  was  neglected  for  a  little 
while,  he  would  give  such  piercing  screams  that 
any  body    was    glad    to    catch    flies    to   stop    his 


84  HARD     MAPLE. 

mouth.  Then  his  basket  must  be  hung  up  out 
of  the  way  of  the  cat,  and  must  be  taken  up 
stairs  at  night ;  and  sometimes  in  the  night  itself 
he  would  scream  out,  —  and  Mrs.  Rutherford  told 
Chryssa  that  perhaps  he  heard  his  mother  twit- 
tering in  the  chimney.  For  in  the  bright  moon- 
light nights  the  old  swallows  flew  up  and  down, 
bringing  food  to  their  hungry  young  ones  that 
were  still  in  the  nest.  But  on  the  whole,  Mas- 
ter Swallow  in  the  basket  was  a  good  deal  of 
trouble,  and  every  body  wished  something  about 
him.  Chryssa  wished  he  would  grow  up  and 
get  his  feathers,  but  several  people  wished  he 
would  die. 

And  they  had  their  wish.  For  one  morning, 
after  having  eaten  an  extraordinary  supper  of  flies 
the  night  before;  after  being  unusually  lively  — 
the  swallow  was  found  dead  in  his  cotton  bed. 

No  body  cried  over  him  —  unless  Chryssa,  and 
she  did  not  care  to  show  her  tears ;  but  Mrs. 
Rutherford  guessed  there  had  been  some  shed,  and 
tried  to  comfort  her  with  the  fact  that  she  had 
done  every  thing   she  could  to  make  him  live. 


HARD    MAPLE.  85 

"And  very  likely  the  cat  would  have  caught 
him  if  he   had   lived  to   grow  up,"  said  Sybil. 

"  I  don't  think  it's  likely  at  all,"  said  Chryssa 
with  a  swelling  heart  that  quite  refused  this  sort 
of  consolation. 

"We'll  take  the  little  bird  up  on  the  hill, 
Chryssie,"  her  aunt  said  gently,  "and  bury  him 
under   some   green  tree,  if  you   like." 

"01  should  like  it  very  much,"  said  Chryssa, 
her  face  brightening.     "  When   shall   we   go  ? " 

"This  afternoon." 

"  But  don't  tell  any  body,"  said  Chryssa,  "  be- 
cause  they   needn't   laugh   if  I   did  love   him." 

Mrs.  Rutherford  did  not  laugh,  and  she  prom- 
ised not  to  tell ;  so  after  dinner  Chryssa  carried 
the  basket  softly  out  to  the  chip  yard,  and  waited 
there  for  Sybil  and  Mrs.  Rutherford,  and  they  all 
set  out  together.  But  when  Chryssa  had  carried 
the  basket  a  little  way  down  the  road,  Mrs.  Ruth- 
erford said, 

"  Now  Chryssie,  let  me  take  the  basket,  and 
you    run   with    Sybil." 

And  though  Chryssa  didn't  want  to  give  it  up 


86  HARD     MAPLE. 

at  first,  yet  she  did  feel  lighter  hearted  when  it 
was  out  of  her  hands,  and  she  and  Sybil  ran  up 
the  hill,  treading  the  pennyroyal  under  their  little 
feet.  Overhead  the  old  swallows  darted  to  and 
fro,  showing  their  forked  tails  in  every  position 
against  the  blue  sky,  but  they  never  guessed  what 
was  in  the  basket,  and  only  thought  of  the  hun- 
gry nest-full   in   the   chimney. 

The  woods  that  edged  the  hill  where  they 
were  going  were  pine  woods,  and  on  the  ground 
the  dry  pine  leaves  made  a  soft  brown  carpet. 
There  was  green  moss  too,  growing  about  the 
old  stumps,  and  here  and  there  an  oak  tree  had 
scattered  acorns ;  while  in  some  other  places  a 
large  or  a  small  snail  had  died  and  left  his  shell. 
Squirrels  ran  nimbly  about,  and  chattered  and 
barked,  and  little  birds  twittered  and  chirped 
softly  among  the  pine  branches ;  while  the  sun 
could  hardly  get  in  at  all,  the  trees  were  so 
thick. 

At  the  very  edge  of  the  wood,  just  where  the 
pine  leaves  began  and  the  green  grass  disap- 
peared,  there   they   buried   the   swallow,   under   a 


HARD      MAPLE.  87 

little  pine  tree.  Two  or  three  stones  were  laid 
down  to  mark  the  place,  and  Mrs.  Rutherford 
said  that  every  time  they  came  that  way  each 
of  them  should  lay  another  stone  on  the  swal- 
low's grave,  and  so  in  time  it  would  be  quite 
a  large  heap.  Then  they  walked  away,  and  Mrs. 
Rutherford  said  she  would  take  them  back  into 
the  woods  and  show  them  the  head  of  the 
spring. 

"What  is  the  head  of  the  spring?"  said 
Chryssa. 

"Why  it's  where  it  first  comes  out  of  the 
ground,"  said  Sybil.  "It's  the  same  spring  that 
makes  the  spout,  —  I  heard  grandpa  speak  of  it 
the   other   day." 

Now  nobody  knew  where  the  spring  came  from 
in  the  first  place,  but  its  first  appearance  in  that 
neighborhood  was  in  another  part  of  the  forest, 
where  there  were  no  pine  trees,  but  where  the 
great  maples  grew  and  laid  their  heads  together, 
whispering  all  sorts  of  things  to  the  summer 
wind.  Here  the  spring  came  welling  up  out  of 
the  ground,  and  made  quite  a  little  spot  of  water, 


88  HARD    MAPLE. 

whereon  were  all  sorts  of  little  natural  boats  — 
acorn  cups  and  dry  leaves  and  bits  of  bark. 
Then  the  stream  ran  on  to  the  edge  of  the 
woods,  winding  about  as  it  liked,  and  then  it 
sunk  down,  down,  into  the  hill,  and  kept  quite 
out  of  sight  till  it  reached  the  field  where  Sybil 
and  Chryssa  had  sailed  boats.  There  it  came 
out  and  took  a  turn  through  all  the  wooden 
troughs,  and  jumped   out   at   the  further  end. 

To  the  shadowy  spring-head  among  the  trees 
Mrs.  Rutherford  brought  the  children,  and  there 
they  all  sat  down  upon  the  grey  stones  by  the 
side  of  the  water.  The  water  was  very  quiet  and 
bright  and  very  cold,  and  Mrs.  Rutherford  made 
a  little  cup  of  a  mullein  leaf,  and  dipped  it  in 
the  spring  and  gave  the  children  a  drink.  They 
liked  the  rough  feeling  of  the  leaf —  it  was  pleas- 
anter  than  smooth  glass,  and  the  water  was  deli- 
cious. 

"  This    cup    would     have     been    almost     small 
enough   for   the    swallow,"   said    Sybil. 

"  Aunt   Esther,"   said    Chryssa,   "  was   that   the 
only   little    swallow   in  the    chimney  ? " 


HARD     MAPLE.  89 

"  O  no,  thei-e  are  plenty  more,  I  dare  say." 

ft  I  hope  they'll  all  stay  there,"  said  Sybil,  — 
"tve   don't  want  any   more   of  'em." 

"  Plenty  more  in  the  same  nest  ?  "  said  Chryssa. 

•'Probably  three  more  —  and  perhaps  a  dozen 
more  nests.  The  nests  are  very  shallow,  that  is 
one  reason  the  young  ones  fall  out.  They  are 
made  of  sticks  glued  together,  and  sometimes 
when  the  rain  comes  down  very  hard  it  softens 
the    glue    and   the   sticks   fall   apart." 

"What  makes  them  build  in  the  chimney,  I 
wonder,     said  Sybil. 

"  Perhaps  they  like  the  warmth,"  said  Mrs. 
Rutherford,  "  though  I  think  they  sometimes  build 
in  chimneys  where  there  is  no  fire.  In  the  un- 
settled parts  of  the  country  they  build  in  an  old 
hoilow  tree  —  a  dozen  together,  but  whenever 
they  can  find  chimneys  they  like  them  best.  Early 
in  September  they  go  away  to  a  warmer  climate, 
and  then  in  May  they  come  back  again.  Then 
they  build  their  nests  and  lay  four  little  white 
eggs,  and  when  the  young  ones  are  hatched  the 
old  birds  are  busy  all  day  long  bringing  them  food." 


90  HARD    MAPLE. 

"I  should  think  so!"  said  Sybil.  "I'm  sure 
it  took   flies   enough   to   content   that   one." 

"  And  when  the  night  comes,"  said  Mrs.  Ruth- 
erford, "  and  other  birds  go  to  sleep,  the  swallow 
still  skims  about  over  land  and  water,  seeking 
food   for  her   noisy   young   ones." 

"  So  that  was  what  made  him  scream  so  in 
the  night!"  said  Chryssa,  —  "he  was  used  to 
being  fed   then  ! " 

"  Yes,  that  was  it."    said  her  aunt. 

"  But,  Aunt  Esther,"  said  Chryssa.  "  what  could 
I  do  ?  I  couldn't  keep  awake  all  nierht  as  the 
old  swallows  do.  And  I  couldn't  have  fed  him, 
if  I   had." 

"No  indeed,  Chryssie,"  said  Mrs.  Rutherford 
smiling.     "  You  did   all   you   could,   my   dear." 

"  Yes,  that  you  did,"  said  Sybil.  "  /  wouldn't 
have   done   half  as   much." 

Chryssa  felt  a  little  comforted  after  that,  but 
she  thought  to  herself  that  it  was  a  great  pity 
the  swallows  did  not  build  their  nests  deeper,  so 
that   nothing  could   fall   out. 

When  they  got  back  to  the  house  again  there 


HARD     MAPLE.  91 

was  the  little  green  wagon  standing  by  the  gate 
and  the  old  brown  horse  harnessed  to  it ;  and 
Mr.  Ruthven  stood  near  with  a  long  whip  in 
his   hand. 

"Ah  there  you  are!  just  in  time,  deary,"  he 
said.  "  I'm  going  to  the  post  office.  Jump  in, 
Chryssa,  and  we'll  have  a  fine  ride.  Won't  you 
go   too,  Sybil?" 

"No  thank  you,  sir,"  said  Sybil,  (she  didn't 
love  driving  much)  "  I  think  I  won't  go  to-day." 

So  Chryssa  jumped  in  and  perched  herself  up 
on  the  seat,  with  the  great  buffalo  robe  covering 
the  cushions,  and  Mr.  Ruthven  got  in  slowly  and 
took  his  seat  by  her  side,  and  Aaron  ran  down 
to  open  the  gate,  and  away  they  went. 

How  sweet  it  was!  with  the  brown  horse 
trotting  easily  along,  and  the  little  green  wagon 
rolling  on  after  him !  Mr.  Ruthven  showed 
Chryssa  how  careful  he  was  not  to  let  the  wheel 
come  against  any  stones  that  lay  in  the  road,  so 
that  they  were  hardly  jolted  a  bit.  There  was 
grain  and  grass  in  the  meadows,  with  flocks  of 
sheep,  and  droves   of  pig^,  and  of  horses,  and  of 


92  HARD     MAPLE. 

cows ;  and  by  the  wayside  were  flowers  —  yellow 
and  purple  and  red;  and  two  or  three  times  Mr. 
Ruthven  made  the  old  horse  stop,  and  let  Chryssa 
jump  out  and  pick  the  flowers ;  and  then  when 
she  got  back  into  the  wagon  he  told  her  what 
all  the  flowers  were  called.  And  you  would 
really  have  thought  the  old  brown  horse  liked 
flowers  too  —  he  was  so  willing  to  stand  still 
while  Chryssa  got  them.  O,  it  was  beautiful  in 
those  days,  along  those  pleasant  roads  !  And  Mr. 
Ruthven,  with  his  brown  coat  and  straw  hat  and 
white  hair,  looked  down  at  Chryssa's  little  brown 
head  —  which  her  sun-bonnet  covered  when  it 
didn't  fall  off,  and  talked  to  her  as  gladly  as 
she  talked  to  him.  It  didn't  matter  how  long 
the  ride  was  —  nor  whether  the  sun  was  hot  or 
the  road  muddy,  —  Chryssa  enjoyed  every  min- 
ute. And  so  they  went  on  to  the  post  office  and 
got  the  newspaper,  and  Mr.  Ruthven  spoke  to 
every  body  he  met,  and  every  body  looked  glad 
to  see  him;    and  then  they  drove  home  again. 

Chryssa    had    been   to  the  post  office  a   great 
many    times   in   this   way ;   but   on  this  particular 


HARD     MAPLE.  93 

morning  a  very  strange  thing  happened.  The 
brown  horse  stopped  at  the  big  gate,  and  Chryssa 
jumped  out  and  opened  and  shut  it,  and  Mr. 
Ruthven  drove  up  to  the  little  gate  in  the  chip 
yard.  But  as  soon  as  every  body  was  out  of 
the  wagon,  and  Aaron  came  to  lead  the  horse 
down  to  the  barn,  up  jumped  a  black  hen  from 
under  the  seat !  —  and  cackled  as  if  she  was  out 
of  her  senses.  As  well  she  might,  for  no  black 
hen,  I  suppose,  ever  went  to  the  post  office  be- 
fore. But  it  was  soon  found  out  that  she  had 
made  her  nest  in  the  wagon  ;  and  being  on  her 
nest  when  they  drove  away,  had  staid  quiet  (like 
a  sensible  hen)  till  they  came  back.  And  there 
in  the  bottom  of  the  wagon  were  two  white 
eggs ! 

CO 


94  HARD     MAPLE. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

•  rT  happened  one  Sunday  that  the  minister  was 
ells  sick  and  could  not  preach,  and  so  nobody 
could  go  to  church.  Doubtless  the  old  horse  was 
not  sorry  (if  he  found  out  why  he  might  graze 
and  roll  all  day  in  his  green  meadow),  and  I  think 
even  Chryssa  and  Sybil  were  well  enough  pleased. 
Staying  at  home  was  a  variety  —  and  the  home 
Sunday  lessons  were  always  interesting,  and  they 
had  plenty  of  Sunday  books.  So  on  the  whole,  the 
two  children  felt  well  satisfied  as  they  stood  in  the 
porch  after  breakfast  and  looked  out ;  for  if  it 
was  a  lovely  day  for  going  to  church  it  was  also 
a  lovely  day  for  staying  at  home.  The  air  was 
very  soft  and  mild,  the  bright  sunbeams  felt  like 
a  warm  hand  wherever  they  fell,  the  fields  were 
as  green  as  they  could  be,  and  the  birds  sang  — 
as  only  birds  can ! 

Mrs.  Rutherford  told  the  children  that  they  might 
go  and   sit  out  of  doors   to   read  and  learn  their 


HARD      MAPLE.  95 

lessons  and  hymns,  and  that  if  they  found  a  nice 
place  she  would  come  too  after  a  while.  And  at 
once  began  a  grand  preparation. 

First,  to  choose  out  books.  Bibles  and  hymn- 
books  were  laid  together,  and  then  Sybil  and 
Chryssa  looked  over  the  whole  array  of  Sunday 
books.  Sybil  soon  suited  herself,  but  Chryssa 
studied  the  matter  for  some  time.  There  was 
Juliana  Oakley,  with  the  delectable  account  of  the 
pea-green  tea  room  and  the  little  brown  bird: 
there  was  Anna  Ross  —  always  interesting  and 
beautiful:  there  was  what  Chryssa  called  "my 
Nathan  Dickerman,"  with  its  black  back  and  yel- 
low cover ;  but  at  last  she  chose  "  my  Little  Mil- 
lennium " —  which  though  it  was  very  small,  and 
had  very  dingy  coloured  covers,  and  a  name  which 
meant  nothing  to  Chryssa's  ears,  was  yet  a  very 
pretty  story  of  a  flock  of  little  children. 

"  Now  Chryssa,"  said  Sybil,  "  if  you're  satisfied, 
we'll  go  up  stairs  and  get  ready." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  the  pencil  and 
all  that  paper  ? "  said  Chryssa. 

'•  0,  I'm  going  to  make  notes,"  said  Sybil. 
"Come  —  "  and  off  she  went. 


96  HARD      MAPLE. 

Chryssa  thought  for  a  minute  about  the  propri- 
ety of  taking  pencil  and  paper  and  making  notes 
herself,  but  then  ran  away  after  Sybil.  And  the 
getting  ready  was  quite  an  affair,  for  Sybil  thought 
sun-bonnets  quite  too  commonplace  for  the  occa- 
sion, and  yet  it  would  not  do  to  go  bareheaded. 
So  she  took  a  little  yellow  silk  shawl  and  pinned 
it  tight  round  her  head  (as  much  like  a  yellow 
apple  as  could  be)  and  then  covered  up  Chryssa's 
brown  hair  with  a  shawl  which  was  striped  red  and 
green.  To  be  sure  their  faces  were  not  shaded 
in  the  least,  but  when  people  wear  turbans  they 
cannot  have  every  thing  else  at  the  same  time. 

Then  with  loaded  arms  the  children  set  forth, 
carrying  all  the  books  —  the  pencil  and  paper  —  la- 
boriously down  to  the  back  of  the  barn. 

Down  in  this  meadow  some  hay  had  been  cut, 
and  there  was  one  great  stack  —  quite  dry  and 
sweet  —  very  near  the  barnyard.  Here  Sybil 
and  Chryssa  established  themselves,  —  making  two 
nests  in  the  hay  for  arm  chairs,  and  patting  and 
pushing  down  another  flat  place  for  the  books. 
And  here  they  sat.     Overhead  waved  a  great  but- 


HARD      MAPLE.  S7 

ternut  tree,  sending  flickering  shadows  far  and 
wide  on  the  smooth  meadow ;  in  the  next  field 
the  cows  were  feeding  leisurely ;  on  the  green  hill- 
side the  sheep  rambled  and  bleated  and  cropped 
the  short  grass.  Every  thing  was  perfect  —  except 
the  turbans! — they  did  feel  a  little  tight  and  hot, 
—  but  being  turbans,  nobody  minded  that.  The 
worst  thing  was  that  it  was  hard  to  study  —  with 
every  thing  tempting  ones  eyes  away;  but  after  a 
little  gazing  at  the  sheep  and  the  butternut  shadows, 
the  children  set  themselves  fairly  to  work,  and  the 
lessons  were  soon  learned.  Then  the  hymns  — 
and  after  that  they  began  to  sing  other  hymns, 
which  they  had  learned  before. 

While  they  were  singing  Mrs.  Rutherford  came 
down  the  hill,  and  she  stood  to  hear  them  —  think- 
ing of  the  time  when  every  body  will  sing  God's 
praises,  both  on  earth  and  in  heaven.  But  when 
she  came  through  the  barnyard  and  caught  sight 
of  the  two  turbans  in  the  haycock,  she  smiled 
for  more  than  pleasure.  She  said  nothing  about 
them  however,  but  came  and  sat  in  the  hay  too, 
though  she  had  only  a  white  sun-bonnet. 
7 


98  HARD      MAPLE. 

"O  Aunt  Esther!"  said  both  the  young  ones, 
"  it's  splendid  out  here  !  And  now  won't  you  tell 
us  a  story?" 

"  Do  you  want  to  hear  a  story  about  heaven  ?  " 
said  Mrs.  Rutherford.  "  That  is  what  I  was  think- 
ing about." 

"  What  could  make  you  think  of  heaven  just 
then  ?  "  said  Sybil. 

"  I  believe  it  was  this  beautiful  earth.  Because 
the  Bible  says  heaven  will  be  a  great  deal  more 
beautiful  than  the  earth  ever  is." 

"  What  is  the  story,  Aunt  Esther  ? "  said 
Chryssa. 

"  I  don't  like  to  think  about  heaven  —  much," 
said  Sybil,  —  "I  don't  want  to  die." 

"  People  don't  die  any  sooner  for  thinking 
about  heaven,"  said  Mrs.  Rutherford. 

"  But  Aunt  Esther,  all  the  good  children  in 
books  die,"  said   S}rbil. 

"  The  good  children  who  live  to  grow  up  do 
not  have  their  lives  written  till  they  are  men  and 
women  —  that's  all,"  said  Mrs.  Rutherford,  smiling. 
w  Some    good     children    God     takes    at    once    to 


HARD     MAPLE.  99 

heaven,  and  pome  he  lets  grow  up  and  work  for 
him  in  the  world  a  great  many  years.  They  may 
be  content,  either  way." 

Sybil  looked  off  at  the  hillside,  a  little  soberly. 

"  I  was  thinking,"  said  Mrs.  Rutherford,  "  what 
a  beautiful  thing  it  is  for  a  child  to  go  to  heaven. 
Once  where  I  lived,  there  was  a  poor  little  cottage 
near  by,  and  the  people  that  lived  there  were 
poor,  and  not  very  good.  They  used  to  quarrel 
a  great  deal,  and  it  was  said  they  did  other  bad 
things.  But  they  had  one  little  child,  —  a  pretty, 
fair  little  thing,  just  big  enough  to  run  about; 
and  she  didn't  look  as  if  she  belonged  to  the 
house.  Nobody  ever  saw  her  without  a  smile 
ready,  and  I  think  no  one  ever  heard  her  cry, — 
and  so  it  seemed  she  did  not  belong  there  —  for 
one  day  God  took  her  to  heaven." 

"  I'm  glad,"  said  Chryssa  with  a  little  long 
breath.  "  Because  she  couldn't  be  happy  with 
such  bad  people.     Did  you  see  her,  Aunt  Esther?" 

"  I  saw  her  —  I  was  there.  She  was  very  sick 
when  I  went,  and  I  held  her  in  my  arms  all  the 
while  till  she  died.     I  was  very  glad  too,  Chryssie 


100  HARD     MAPLE. 

—  to  think  of  the  white  robes  she  should  have  for 
those  poor  rags,  to  think  of  the  angels  that  were 
waiting  for  her,  to  think  of  the  open  gates  of  the 
heavenly  city.  What  are  some  of  the  verses  about 
it  ?  —  do  you  remember  ?  " 

"'The  gates  are  twelve  pearls,'  said  Chryssa, — 
*  and  there  shall  be  no  night  there.' " 

"'And  the  inhabitant  shall  no  more  say,  I  am 
sick,'"  added  Sybil. 

Mrs.  Rutherford  went  on  — 

" '  And  the  throne  of  God  and  of  the  Lamb 
shall  be  in  it:  and  his  servants  shall  serve  him; 
and  they  shall  see  his  face,  and  his  name  shall  be 
in  their  foreheads.'  '  And  there  shall  be  no  more 
death,  neither  sorrow,  nor  crying,  neither  shall 
there  be  any  more   pain.'" 

"Aunt  Esther!"  said  Sybil,  after  a  little  pause, 
"  I  know  all  that's  true  —  and  it  sounds  beautiful, 
—  why  doesn't  every  body  —  and  I  too  —  love  to 
think  of  going  there  ? " 

Mrs.  Rutherford  smiled. 

"You  must  pray  God  to  make  you  love  him," 
she    raid.  — "  and    when   you    love    him   with    all 


HARD     MAPLE.  101 

your   heart,    then   you    will    love    to    think    about 
heaven." 

The  children  went  on  with  their  lessons  after 
that,  but  they  thought  of  the  white  robes  and 
the  pearly  gates  all  the  while ;  and  when  they 
had  said  their  verses  and  hymns,  taking  off  the 
shawl  turbans  to  feel  the  breeze,  they  leaned  their 
heads  down  on  the  sweet  hay,  and  read  the  whole 
account  of  the  heavenly  city,  and  prayed  in  their 
hearts  that  God  would  give  them  a  home  there, 
for  Christ's  sake. 


102  HAKD      MAI'LE. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

^fJjHE  spring  had  passed  away,  and  the  summer 
d4s  was  running  after.  Now  the  grass  was 
long  and  stout,  and  began  to  show  its  queer  little 
flowers;  and  whenever  the  wind  blew  it  waved 
and  bent  down  and  rose  up  again  in  the  most 
graceful  manner.  But  when  the  rain  fell,  the 
grass  fell  too,  and  sometimes  could  not  get  up 
again.     Now  the  children  sang, 

Clover!   clover!   all  over  —  all  overl 
Away  on   the  hill  white  clover  grows, 
And  down  in  the  meadow  red  clover  blows, 
And  off  by  the  rocks,  as  all  the  world  knows, 

Is  yellow  clover  — 

All  over,  all  overl 

Clover,  clover!  all  over  —  all  over! 

The  bee  his  little  honey-bag  brings, 

And  hums  a  tune  —  while  the  graeshopper  sings ; 

And  butterflies  come  with  their  gorgeous  wings, 

And  clover,  clover, 

Flit  over  —  flit  overl 

Clover,  clover!    all  over,  all  over! 

The  mower  comes  with  his  shining  blade, 

And  the  clover  in  wilting  heaps  is  laid ; 


HARD      MAPLE.  103 

And  the  sun  shines  out,  and  the  hay  is  mado, 
And  clover,  clover, 
Is  over  —  is  overl 

Clover,  clover!  all  over — all  over! 
For  out  in  the  barn  is  clover  hay, 
And  the  clover  roots  are  working  away 
To  give  lis  again,  as  soon  as  they  may, 

Sweet  clover,  clover, 

All  over!   all  over! 

The  little  lambs  had  grown  very  much  since 
spring,  and  were  quite  white  and  fat.  Sybil  and 
Chryssa  had  grown  fat  too,  but  it  could  not  be 
said  that  they  had  grown  white  —  they  had  rather 
grown  brown. 

One  morning  when  Chryssa  went  out  to  the 
chip  yard  before  breakfast,  she  saw  Mr.  Ruthven 
walking  down  the  hill  towards  the  barn,  and  she 
went  on  after  him ;  and  as  she  got  to  the  turn  of 
the  road  she  saw  Aaron  and  another  man  trying 
to  drive  the  whole  flock  of  sheep  through  the  bar 
place  into  the  barnyard.  The  men  wore  clapping 
and  shouting,  and  the  sheep  seemed  frightened 
out  of  their  wits :  they  leaped  over  each  other, 
and  tumbled  about,  and  ran,  and  stood  still,  and 
cried   "  Ba-a-a ! "    a    great    many    times ;    but    all 


104  HARD      MAPLE. 

seemed  afraid  to  go  into  the  barnyard.  At  last 
one  big  sheep  took  a  great  jump  in  the  air  —  and 
then  every  other  sheep  took  just  the  same  jump 
after  him,  up  in  the  air  and  through  the  bars, 
though  there  was  nothing  in  the  world  to  jump 
over.  Chryssa  saw  her  grandfather  pointing  to- 
wards the  sheep  and  talking  to  the  men,  and  she 
wondered  very  much  what  was  going  on.  Sud- 
denly she  heard  Sybil  call  out  — 

"  Chryssa!  Chryssa!  come  here! — just  as  quick 
as  you  can.  —  Run  ! " 

Chryssa  felt  sorry  to  leave  the  sheep,  but 
she  ran  just  as  fast  as  she  could,  and  was  so 
much  out  of  breath  when  she  got  to  the  house, 
that  she  could  not  ask  what  the  matter  was. 
Sybil  stood  there,  beckoning. 

"  Come  right  in  the  house,  Chryssa !  —  they're 
going  to  kill  a  sheep ! " 

Chryssa  came  in,  fast  enough;  she  never  even 
stopped  to  ask  why  the  sheep  must  be  killed:  she 
rushed  up  stairs  as  hard  as  she  could  to  her 
room,  shut  the  door,  threw  herself  down  on  the 
bed,   and   half    smothered   herself   in   the   pillows. 


HARD      MAPLE.  105 

There  she  lay,  nobody  knows  how  long,  —  not 
daring  to  move  or  raise  her  head  for  fear  she 
should  hear  the  sheep,  and  perfectly  horror-struck 
at  the  idea  of  its  being  killed. 

After  a  long  while  Sybil  opened  the  door  and 
came  in. 

"  Why  Chryssa  !  "  she  said  —  "  are  you  there  ? 
I've  looked  every  where  for  you.  What  are  you 
doing  ?  " 

"I'm  not  doing  any  thing,"  said  Chryssa  in  a 
stifled  voice. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  why  don't  you  come  down 
to  breakfast?" 

"  I  can't "  —  said  Chryssa. 

"Why  not?  —  have  you  hurt  yourself?" 

"  No,"  said  Chryssa  mournfully,  —  nothing  was 
hurt  but  her  feelings,  and  she  didn't  know  they 
were. 

"  Are  you  hiding  up  here  because  of  the 
sheep  ?  "  said  Sybil. 

To  which  Chryssa  answered  by  a  very  deep 
t?igh  from  under  the  pillows. 

"  0    well,   the   sheep  is   dead,   long    ago,"   said 


106  HAKD      MAPLE. 

Sybil,   "so  it's   no  use   to  think   any  more  about 
that.     Come  down  to  breakfast,  child." 

"What  did  they  kill  it  for?"  said  Chryssa, 
getting  up  with  another  sigh  and  beginning  to 
brush  her  hair,  which  was  very  much  tumbled  by 
the  pillows. 

"  Why  to  eat,"  said  Sybil.  "  Grandpa  said  the 
butcher  hadn't  come  round,  and  he  thought  that 
was  the  best  thing  to  do." 

Chryssa  said  nothing,  but  she  thought  as  she 
went  down  stairs,  that  for  her  part  she  would 
rather  have  lived  upon  bread  and  milk,  or  even 
blackberry  pie,  till  the  butcher  came.  But  when 
she  saw  the  sheep  afterwards,  at  the  cellar  kitchen 
door  where  the  men  were  cutting  it  up,  it  looked 
so  little  like  a  sheep  that  she  began  to  forget  it 
had  ever  been  one. 

After  breakfast  she  went  out  to  the  chip  yard 
again,  and  this  time  there  was  nothing  to  disturb 
her.  Hardly  a  sound  could  be  heard  except 
what  was  made  by  the  mowers  down  in  the 
meadow.  There  were  four  of  them,  and  they 
were  all  whetting  their  scythes  together.     Chryssa 


HARP      MAPLE-  107 

had  often  heard  Garret  whet  his  scythe,  at  home, 
but  this  sound  seemed  different;  and  when  the 
men  put  their  rifles  into  their  left  hands,  and  began 
to  mow  —  all  together,  every  scythe  going  just 
as  fast  as  the  rest  —  she  was  quite  charmed. 
How  the  four  men  swept  the  grass  before  them! 
how  their  scythes  glittered  in  the  sun  —  how  the 
dewy  grass  lay  in  long  heaps  on  either  side ! 

"They  get  along  fast,  don't  they,  dearie?" 
said  Mr.  Ruthven.  He  had  come  out  to  look  at 
the  mowers  too. 

"  O  yes  !  "  said  Chryssa.     "  How  pretty  it  is  ! " 

Mr.  Ruthven  smiled,  and  walked  on  to  the 
edge  of  the  chip  yard  where  it  sloped  down  to 
the  meadow;  and  Chryssa  went  after  him. 

Along  this  green  bank  were  several  apple 
trees,  some  at  the  top  and  some  at  the  bottom 
and  some  half  way  up,  and  in  one  of  them  there 
was  a  swing.  The  tree  was  very  crooked,  stick- 
ing out  its  boughs  just  where  you  didn't  expect 
them,  and  the  swing  hung  from  a  long  branch 
that  stretched  itself  out  towards  the  next  apple 
tree  as  if  to  shake  hands.     Mr.  Ruthven  sat  down 


108  HARD      MAPLE. 

in  the   swing  to   watch  the  mowers,  and   Chryssa 
stood   by   his   side.     Then   she    thought  to   herself 
how   nice   it  would   be   if  she   could   give   him   a 
swing !  —  and   she   tried   to  push   the  board   seat, 
but   it   wouldn't   move.     Then    she    put    both    her 
hands    on    Mr.    Ruthven's    shoulder    and    gave   a 
great  push,  —  and  the  swing   really  moved   about 
three    inches   and    he  with    it.     Chryssa   felt   very 
pleased  then,  and  her  grandfather  turned  towards 
her   and  smiled   as   if  he   was  very   pleased  too: 
and  Chryssa  had  no  doubt  that  he  enjoyed  swing- 
ing  very   much.     So   she    swung    him    after    her 
fashion   all   the  time  he  sat  under  the  apple  tree. 
Then   they  both   went  down    into  the   meadow  to 
see    the    mowers    nearer    by.      The    air    seemed 
sweeter  than   ever   then,  with   the   fresh  smell  of 
the  cut  grass,  and  the   grasshoppers  were  so  busy 
and   in    such    numbers    that    Chryssa    thought    it 
was  very  well  she  was  not  afraid  of  them,  or  she 
could  not  have  staid  in  the  field  a  minute.     There 
were  dear  little  birds  too,  as  busy  as  they,  hop- 
ping from   swath   to   swath   that   the   mowers  left 
behind  them. 


HARD     MAPLE.  109 

Ib  the  meadow  were  little  stony  spots  —  some- 
times one  large  stone,  sometimes  a  heap  of  little 
ones,  all  surrounded  with  bushes.  Flowers  grew 
with  the  bushes,  too,  like  a  fringe  —  cahosh  and 
Indian  pipe.  Some  of  the  bush  stems  were  dark 
red,  spotted  with  white,  and  had  a  sweet  spicy 
smell;  and  Mr.  Ruthven  told  Chryssa  that  they 
were  called  Indian  willow,  because  the  Indians 
used  to  smoke  the  bark  instead  of  tobacco ;  and 
he  cut  three  or  four  of  the  stems,  and  told  Chryssa 
he  would  smoke  the  bark  for  her  when  they  got 
back  to  the  house,  and  let  her  smell  how  sweet 
it  was. 

By  this  time  the  sun  was  pretty  hot,  and  Chryssa 
thought  she  would  go  somewhere  into  the  shade. 
But  the  mowers  did  not  seem  to  mind  it  at  all, 
only  they  wiped  their  faces  on  their  shirt  sleeves 
now  and  then,  and  mowed  away  as  before ;  and 
Mr.  Ruthven  staid  to  see  them. 

When  Chryssa  got  back  to  the  house  she 
heard  a  hen  cackling  very  loud  in  the  garden, 
and  as  she  opened  the  gate  the  hen  flew  over 
the    fence.       Then    Chryssa   had    a    real    hunt   for 


110  HARD    MAPLE. 

the  nest.  She  looked  all  along  by  the  fence, 
under  the  dill  and  coriander  bushes,  and  between 
the  rows  of  beets,  and  in  the  onion  bed,  and 
under  the  bean  vines,  —  nice  places  for  nests, 
but  no  nests.  She  did  find  some  of  the  kittens, 
playing  hide  and  seek  round  the  bean  poles, 
but  they  ran  as  only  kittens  could.  Then  she 
went  on  further  where  the  squash  vines  grew, 
covering  the  ground  with  their  great  green  leaves 
and  yellow  flowers ;  and  here  the  hen  had  made 
her  nest,  under  a  squash  leaf;  and  in  it  there 
were  three  eggs.  Then  Sybil  called  out  from 
the  back  door, 

"  O  Chryssa !  come  here  and  see  what  grandpa 
has  got  for  you." 

Chryssa  ran,  but  not  very  fast,  because  she 
had  the  eggs  in  her  apron  and  was  afraid  of  break- 
ing them. 

It  seemed  that  the  mowers  as  they  cut  down 
the  grass  in  the  meadow  had  found  a  bumble 
bee's  nest,  and  Mr.  Ruthven  had  brought  it  home 
for  Chryssa  because  it  was  full  of  honey :  out. 
side  it  looked  very  much  like  a  wasp's  nest.     But 


HARD     MA  PLE.  Ill 

the  cells  were  filled  and  closed  up,  only  where 
the  mowers  had  broken  two  or  three  the  honey 
dropped  out  in  clear  bright  drops.  Chryssa  did 
not  stop  to  eat  honey  just  then,  —  she  put  the 
nest  away  in  the  house  and  came  out  again.  She 
had  a  new  thought  in  her  head. 

The  kittens  must  be  growing  less  wild  —  here 
they  were  in  the  garden,  clambering  over  the 
fence ;  and  there  was  old  Mrs.  Tortoiseshell  sit- 
ting on  a  pile  of  boards  near  the  fence,  dozing 
and  winking  her  eyes  in  the  sunshine.  It  came 
into  Chryssa's  head,  that  if  she  sat  there,  with 
the  old  cat  in  her  lap,  perhaps  the  kittens  would 
come  and  pay  them  both  a  visit. 

So  seating  herself  on  the  pile  of  boards,  and 
lifting  the  heavy  old  cat  into  her  lap,  Chryssa 
petted  and  coaxed  her  till  she  lay  still,  and  then 
began  to  call  the  kittens.  Mrs.  Tortoiseshell  never 
called  them  once,  but  went  to  sleep;  and  Chryssa 
mewed  and  mewed  till  she  was  tired.  But  at 
last  —  great  reward  of  patience  and  perseverance ! 
—  she  saw  the  yellow  kitten  peeping  at  her 
from   behind   the   fence   close    by,   and    soon    the 


112  HARD     MAPLE. 

little  pussy  crept  through  the  fence,  —  then  she 
stopped  and  looked.  Chryssa  sat  quite  still  and 
mewed  once  more.  The  yellow  kitten  came  a 
step  nearer  —  then  another  step,  walking  as  care- 
fully as  if  she  had  been  on  eggs  instead  of  clo- 
ver blossoms ;  and  by  this  time  the  black  and 
white  kitten  showed  its  pink  nose  through  the 
fence  too,  and  then  the  black  one  appeared ; 
for  Chryssa's  mews  were  most  insinuating.  The 
little  yellow  puss  came  softly  on,  till  she  could 
touch  the  old  cat's  head  with  her  nose ;  and  at 
last  she  stepped  on  Chryssa's  lap  and  began  to 
rub  against  the  old  cat  and  purr.  Chryssa  trem- 
bled with  delight !  and  even  Mrs.  Tortoiseshell 
found  it  pleasant,  and  said  "  Mur-r-r ! "  on  her 
own  account.  This  brought  out  little  Spot  at 
once,  and  the  black  kitten  followed ;  but  little 
Tortoise  sat  perched  on  the  fence,  and  the  white 
kitten  looked  through,  and  the  grey  one  hid  under 
a  currant  bush.  That  was  all  Chryssa  could  do 
that  day  but  you  may  believe  she  was  well  con- 
tent. She  sat  there  looking  at  her  lap  full  of 
cats  till  the  mowers  came  home  to  dinner,  and  the 
minute  they  appeared  every  kitten  ran  away. 


Hard  Maple. 


1',  112. 


HARD     MAPLE.  113 


CHAPTER    X. 

"  CffXUNT   Esther,"  said  Chryssa,  one  morning, 
<^0^>  "  when  is    Fulvi    coming  ? " 

"  In   a  few   days,"   said  Mrs.  Rutherford. 

"  I  wish  I  could  do  something  with  my  doll's 
head  ! "   said    Chryssa. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ? "  said  her  aunt  smiling. 
"Does   it   ache?" 

"  O  Aunt  Esther !  "  said  Chryssa  laughing,  — 
"  you  know  it  doesn't,  very  well !     But  it  looks  so." 

"  Let  me  see  it,"  said  Mrs.  Rutherford.  "  Why 
I  have  heard  nothing  about  the  doll  since  we 
came   to   Hard  Maple." 

"  No,"  said  Chryssa,  "  because  I've  been  so 
busy ;  but  I  thought  if  Fulvi  came  we  might 
want   her." 

"  Want   Fulvi  ? "   said   her   aunt,  laughing. 

Chryssa  laughed  too,  and  said  she  meant  the  doll. 

"  Well   let   me   see  how  her    head   looks,"  said 
Mrs.  Rutherford. 
8 


114  HARD    MAPLE. 

So  Chryssa  brought  the  doll,  who  looked  in- 
deed as  if  she  had  grown  grey  —  so  much  was 
her   black   hair    worn    and   rubbed   off. 

"  I  think  she  does  want  freshening  up,"  said 
Mrs.  Rutherford.  "  If  I  were  to  paint  her  head, 
Chryssa  —  how   would    that   do  ?  " 

"  O  that  would  be  the  very  thing ! "  said 
Chryssa,    "  but   you    haven't    got   any   paint." 

"  O  yes  I  have,"  said  her  aunt  — "  the  paint- 
ers left  some  black  paint  when  they  were  here 
the  other  day."  And  Mrs.  Rutherford  brought  a 
little  paint  pot  that  was  —  as  Miss  Flint  said  — 
"  as  black  as  pitch  "  inside.  Then  she  took  dolly 
carefully  in  one  hand,  and  a  small  brush  in  the 
other,  and  painted  every  bit  of  her  hair  till  if 
shone  again,  and  was  just  about  as  black  as  ink 

"  She   looks    quite    splendid   now,"   said   Sybil. 

"  I  would  put  her  somewhere  out  of  doors, 
Chryssie,  till  her  hair  is  dry,"  said  Mrs.  Ruth' 
erford. 

So  Chryssa  took  the  doll  out  to  the  front  of 
the  house  and  set  her  up  against  the  trunk  of 
one  of  the  great  trees,  between  two  of  the  roots, 


HARD     MAPLE.  115 

to  dry.  Then  she  went  to  look  at  her  hee's 
nest.  But  the  hee's  nest  disgusted  her  very 
much.  For  in  some  of  the  cells  there  were  young 
bees,  just  hatched  out;  and  as  young  bees  look 
very  much  like  white  worms,  Chryssa  disliked 
them  exceedingly.  To  be  sure,  the  honey  in  the 
other  cells  was  bright  and  clear,  but  she  could 
not  bear  to  touch  it.  Neither  could  she  bear  to 
tell  the  difficulty  to  her  grandfather,  because  he 
was  so  kind  to  bring  her  the  nest,  and  Chryssa 
was  afraid  he  would  feel  bad  if  she  didn't  eat 
the  honey.  At  last  she  put  it  up  on  the  mantel- 
piece, and  there  it  staid  for  some  time,  —  after 
that  I  don't  know  what  became  of  it. 

Doily  sat  out  at  the  foot  of  the  tree  all  day, 
because,  as  Chryssa  said,  "it  seemed  as  if  her 
hair  never  would  get  dry."  And  as  the  day 
was  warm,  Mr.  Ruthven  sat  in  the  porch,  and 
Mrs.  Rutherford  brought  out  her  sewing  and  sat 
there  too.  And  Sybil  brought  a  pillow  case  to 
hem,  but  she  didn't  do  much,  because  Chryssa 
was  running  races  in  the  grass  and  Sybil  had 
to    jump    up    and     go     after     her.       Then     Mr. 


116  nAUD     MAPLE. 

Ruthven  took  Chryssa  on  his  lap  and  sung 
to  her, 

"0  where  are  you  going,  sweet  robin?"  — 

and  many  other  things.  Then  he  went  into  the 
house,  and  Mrs.  Rutherford  told  the  children  the 
story  of 

THE    LITTLE    WILD    GOOSE. 

"  The  little  wild  goose,"  said  Mrs.  Rutherford, 
"was  the  child  of  the  old  wild  goose,  and  had 
half  a  dozen  wild  goslings  for  brothers  and  sis- 
ters. The  old  goose  made  her  rough  nest  on  the 
ground,  far  up  in  North  America,  where  there 
was  just  a  wild  region  of  country  and  tribes  of 
Indians,  with  a  few  white  hunters  who  had  come 
to  kill  the  fur  animals  or  to  buy  their  skins 
from  the  Indians.  In  this  nest  she  laid  seven 
greenish-white  eggs,  and  set  upon  them  till  the 
goslings  came  out.  They  were  yellow,  downy 
little  things,  whereas  the  old  wild  goose  herself 
was  covered  with  feathers,  and  so  was  her  mate. 
Their  heads  and  necks  were  black,  and  their 
tails  were  black,  and  their  bills  ;   with  white  chins 


HARD     MAPLE.  117 

and  throats,  and  brown  backs  and  sides.  But 
they  thought  the  yellow  goslings  were  beautiful, 
nevertheless. 

"  For  a  while  the  old  wild  goose  fed  her  young 
ones  upon  sedge  roots,  and  berries,  and  grass ; 
and  every  few  days  she  took  them  to  a  little 
inlet  for  the  benefit  of  sea  bathing  and  gravel. 
When  they  were  old  enough  she  and  her  mate 
led  them  off  to  the  shores  of  Hudson's  Bay,  and 
there  they  lived  through  the  summer,  eating  water 
plants  and  having  great  swimming  parties ;  for 
by  this  time  the  gosiings  had  finished  and  put 
on  their  feather  coats.  But  when  the  fall  weather 
began  to  come,  and  the  nights  grew  cold,  and 
the  bay  began  to  show  white  crusts  of  ice,  then 
all  the  wild  geese  —  young  and  old  —  came  to- 
gether in  large  flocks  to  consult  what  they  should 
do.  For  if  the  bays  should  freeze  over  entirely 
they  could  get  no  more  sea  cabbage,  —  and  be- 
sides, the  cold  weather  did  not  agree  with  their 
health.  It  was  therefore  unanimously  resolved 
that  they  would  all  go  South,  as  usual.  The 
little  wild   geese   felt   alarmed   at   the  prospect   of 


118  HARD     MAPLE. 

such  a  long  flight,  for  they  had  not  used  their 
wing3  very  much  as  yet,  but  the  old  ones  told 
them  that  they  had  made  the  journey  very  often, 
and  it  was  delightful.  There  was  only  one  draw- 
back, and  that  was  the  risk  they  ran  of  being 
shot;  but  as  this  was  a  thing  that  might  happen 
to  a  wild  goose  any  where,  it  was  not  worth  men- 
tioning  in    connection    with   the  journey. 

"  So  one  fine  day,  all  the  wild  geese  rose  up 
in  the  air  together,  spreading  their  wings  and 
screaming,  and  having  put  an  old  gander  at  the 
head  to  lead  the  way,  the  rest  followed  in  two 
single  lines,  which  spread  out  from  him  like  a  V. 
They  flew  on  and  on, —  sometimes  stopping  to 
eat  and  sometimes  to  bathe,  and  then  taking  flight 
as  before.  Every  once  in  a  while  the  old  gan- 
der called  out,  'Honk?'  —  which  meant,  'How 
are  you  all  getting  on  ? '  And  then  one  of  the 
geese  would  answer,  '  Wook  / '  —  as  much  as  to  say, 
'As  well  as  possible!'  And  the  country  people 
said,  '  There  go  the  wild  geese !  how  early  the 
winter   sets   in  ! ' 

"  The   worst   thing,   sl.j   the   old   ones   had   said, 


HARD     MAPLE.  119 

was  the  danger  of  being  shot.  Sometimes  the 
Indians  imitated  the  voice  of  a  wild  goose  so 
exactly,  that  the  whole  flock  came  down  to  the 
meadow  to  see  what  it  could  be  about  there ;  and 
then  the  Indians  discharged  their  arrows  and 
killed  three  or  four,  —  the  little  wild  goose  lost 
three  of  his  brothers  in  this  way  at  one  time. 
Then  when  they  got  into  the  United  States  and 
alighted  to  feed,  some  hunters  shot  at  them  from 
behind  a  wood,  and  another  was  killed  and  an- 
other had  her  wing  broken ;  and  this  one  the 
hunter  picked  up  and  carried  home  and  put  in 
his  barnyard.  Then  another  was  wounded  as  he 
was  swimming  in  a  lake,  but  he  dived  and  came 
up  again  nobody  knew  where.  So  by  the  time 
the  little  wild  goose  got  safe  to  the  southern 
country,  there  was  not  one  of  his  brothers  and 
sisters  left. 

"  There,  through  the  warm  winter,  the  wild 
flock  fed  and  grew  fat,  and  the  young  ones  be- 
came more  perfect  geese  than  ever  before ;  but 
as  soon  as  the  spring  came  they  said  it  was 
needful   to   go  North   at   once,  for   they  could  not 


120  HARD     MAPLE. 

bear   the   hot   summer.       Then   they   began   their 
flight  again,  just   as   before. 

"  How  glad  the  people  were  to  see  them  ;  say- 
ing, 'Now  we  shall  have  warm  weather,  here 
come  the  wild  geese!'  And  the  flock  went  on, 
passing  over  one  State  and  another,  and  when 
they  came  to  New  Jersey  they  stopped  there  to  feed. 

"  Now  this  was  the  State  where  the  hunter  had 
carried  home  the  wounded  sister  of  the  little  wild 
goose ;  and  when  the  flock  rose  up  in  the  air 
next  day,  they  flew  directly  over  the  barnyard 
where  she  was  kept,  for  her  wound  was  cured. 
There  she  had  spent  the  winter  among  the  tame 
geese,  the  ducks,  and  the  chickens,  growing  fat 
upon  the  farmer's  corn,  and  doubtless  supposing 
that  she  should  never   eat   sea   cabbage   again. 

"  But  when  the  whole  flock  of  wild  geese  came 
flying  along,  high  up  in  the  sky,  just  when  they 
were  over  the  barnyard  the  old  General  gan- 
der called  out  '  Houk ! '  as  loud  as  he  could ; 
and  to  the  great  delight  of  the  little  wild  goose, 
his  sister  down  in  the  barnyard  called  out 
'Wook!'   in   reply;   and  spreading  her  wings  she 


HARD     MAPLE.  121 

came    right    up    into    the    air,    and    they   all  went 
ou   to   Hudson's   Bay   together.1' 

Now  just  as  Mrs.  Rutherford  finished  this  story, 
Miss  Flint  came  and  told  the  children  that  she 
was  going  to  make  cheese,  and  they  ran  down 
into    the    cellar   kitchen    to    look   on. 

The  cellar  kitchen  was  \erj  full.  There  was 
first  Miss  Flint,  with  her  sleeves  rolled  up  and  a 
clean  blue  apron  tied  round  her  waist,  —  there 
were  two  great  cheese  tubs,  and  over  one  was 
set  a  large  splinter  basket  woven  so  as  to  leave 
great  holes  between  the  splints ;  and  over  the 
fire  was  a  brass  kettle  of  miik.  Into  this  milk 
Miss  Flint  dipped  her  finger  from  time  to  time, 
to  try  if  it  was  warm  enough ;  and  when  it  was, 
she  lifted  it  off  and  turned  the  milk  into  one  of 
the  tubs.  The  milk  stood  there  for  a  while,  and 
then  the  children  saw  that  it  had  become  quite 
thick,   like    loppered   milk. 

"  Why  what   made   it   do  so  ? "  said   Sybil. 

"0  Miss  Flint!"  said  Chryssa,  "your  milk's 
sour ! " 


122  HARD     MAPLE. 

"  No  indeed ! "  said  Miss  Flint  — "  it's  as  sweet 
as  a  nut.  But  I  put  rennet  in  on  purpose  to 
turn  it." 

"  Rennet ? "  said  Sybil  —  "I  don't  know  what 
rennet   is." 

"  Well  I  guess  you  wouldn't  know  any  better 
if  I  told  you,"  said  Miss  Flint ;  and  sbe  took 
a  wooden  knife  and  began  to  cut  through  the 
white  curd  in  every  direction.  Then  she  put  in 
her  hand,  stirring  it  about  and  breaking  the  curd 
into  little  bits,  and  as  she  broke  the  curd  there 
came  out  a  thin  whitish-looking  liquid  which  Miss 
Flint  called  "  whey."  She  took  a  wooden  ladle 
and  ladled  out  some  of  this  whey,  and  then 
turned  all  that  was  left  —  curd  and  whey  to- 
gether—  into  the  white  cheese  cloth  that  lay  in 
the  cheese  basket.  And  then  the  whey  soaked 
through  the  cloth,  and  ran  down  into  the  tub  at 
a  great  rate.  All  this  took  some  time,  but  when 
the  children  felt  tired  they  ran  out  of  the  kitchen 
door  and  down  to  the  spout,  and  came  back  quite 
refreshed. 

When  the  most  of  the  whey  had .  run  out,  and 


HARD      MAPLE.  123 

the  white  curd  in  the  basket  looked  quite  dry, 
Miss  Flint  put  in  salt  and  mixed  it  up  with  her 
hands ;  and  then  she  took  another  cloth  and  laid 
it  in  the  cheese  hoop,  which  stood  on  a  little 
round  board,  and  in  that  she  put  the  curd  — 
packing  it  down  till  all  was  in,  and  folding  the 
cloth  over.  Then  she  carried  it  up  stairs  to  the 
cheese  press  which  stood  in  the  stoop,  and  as 
soon  as  the  weight  came  down  on  the  curd  the 
whey  began  to  run  out  again,  and  came  drip, 
drip,  into  the  yellow  wooden  pail  that  Miss  Flint 
set   to   catch   it. 

"  There  "  —  she  said,  —  "  that's  all  you  can  see 
to-day.  To-morrow  you  shall  see  me  turn  it,  and 
when  I  begin  to  pare  it  then  you'll  have  a  good 
time." 

So  Miss  Flint  went  off  to  the  dairy,  and  Sybil 
and  Chiyssa  went  out  under  the  great  trees  again  ; 
wondering  very  much  what  the  paring  of  the 
cheese  could  have  to  do  with  their  having  "a 
good  time." 


1^4  HARD     MAPLE. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

JHE  day  came  which  was  to  bring  Fulvi;  so 
did  the  stage  coach.  A  heavy,  lumbering, 
brown  leather  and  yellow  paint  thing  it  was,  rolling 
and  jolting  and  curtseying  along  at  the  tail  of 
four  horses,  and  followed  by  a  cloud  of  dust ;  but 
it  looked  quite  beautiful  to  the  children,  and 
Chryssa  exclaimed, 

"There's  Fulvi's  head!  I  saw  her  straw  bon- 
net ! " 

"And  there's  the  baby!"  said  Sybil. 

And  when  the  coach  actually  stopped  at  the 
gate,  and  the  driver  got  down  and  opened  the 
door,  it  was  hard  to  tell  which  was  most  glad 
—  Fulvi  or  Chryssa.  The  straw  bonnet  being 
speedily  got  rid  of,  as  a  thing  altogether  too  cum- 
bersome for  business,  the  two  young  ones  put 
their  arms  round  each  other  and  set  off — to  go 
everywhere,  see  everything,  and  make  all  possi- 
ble   plans.     What    watching  for   kittens  and  hunt- 


HARD      MAPLE.  125 

ing  for  eggs !  —  what  collecting  of  milkweed  silk, 
pennyroyal,  and  snail  shells! — what  wandering 
about  in  the  sweet  air  !  ah,  there  never  was  any 
thino-  like  it.  Nothing  brought  them  back  to  the 
house  but  dinner,  and  nothing  would  have  kept 
them  in  the  house  afterwards  but  the  fact  that 
they  must  dress  and  go  out  to  tea  —  therefore  it 
was  best  not  to  get  tired,  and  besides  dressing 
took  some  time. 

Not  that  there  was  so  much  to  put  on  or  off— 
the  little  short-sleeved  frocks  were  not  bulky,  and 
the  few  hooks  and  eyes  were  soon  fastened ;  but 
there  was  so  much  running  and  dancing  about 
—  such  "O  Fulvi's!"  and  "O  Chryssa's!"  and 
"  Children,  don't  you  ever  mean  to  stand  still  ? " 
that  nobody  was  ready  one  bit  too  soon.  For 
they  were  to  walk,  and  the  walk  though  not  long, 
was  yet  not  short. 

It  was  very  pretty  —  with  the  afternoon  sun 
shining  soft  and  warm  upon  everything ;  with 
the  squirrels  on  the  fence,  and  the  children  in 
their  light  frocks  fluttering  like  so  many  butter- 
flies   about    the   road.     Up    the   hill,   where    the 


126  II  A  It  D     MAP  LB. 

brook  foamed  along  under  a  little  wooden  bridge 
and  then  jumped  ten  feet  down  a  pile  of  rocks ; 
then  further  on,  where  the  same  brook  made 
itself  useful  by  turning  a  saw  mill,  and  where 
the  great  logs  that  were  to  be  cut  into  boards*1 
lay  about  on  all  sides.  Further  on  still,  the 
brook  set  a  carding  mill  in  motion,  and  the 
whirr  of  the  machinery  and  the  rush  of  the 
water  made  quite  a  little  hubbub.  Beyond  this 
mill  was  a  little  pond,  where  ducks  with  necks 
of  changeable  green  and  black,  sailed  about  with 
a  troop  of  yellow  ducklings ;  now  floating  on  the 
bright  water,  now  diving  down  head  first,  leaving 
nothing  but  the  tip  end  of  a  tail  to  say  there 
had  ever  been  a  duck  there.  Pleasant-looking 
white  houses  stood  about  this  pond,  and  little 
dogs  —  black  or  red  —  rushed  out  and  barked 
at    the    strangers. 

The  house  where  they  were  going  stood  back 
from  the  road,  and  had  a  garden  full  of  gay 
flowers ;  and  it  was  pleasant,  too,  within,  and 
everybody  was  very  kind  to  the  children.  But 
they    didn't   love   very   much   to   sit    still    in   the 


HARD     MAPLE.  127 

parlour  and  see  the  older  people  knit  and  talk, 
though  they  were  too  polite  to  say  so  or  to 
seem  impatient.  Fulvi  and  Chryssa  sat  as  still 
as  mice,  perched  up  on  their  chairs,  and  only 
spoke  to  each  other  in  low  tones  about  the 
flowers,  the  little  dog,  or  the  Maltese  cat  that 
sat  in  the  window.  But  though  they  tried  very 
hard  to  keep  perfectly  grave,  sometimes  when 
their  eyes  met  it  was  almost  impossible,  —  so  full 
of  fun  were  they ;  and  then  each  one  almost 
choked  herself  in  the  attempt  to  keep  from 
laughing  out.  How  glad  they  were  when  the 
lady  of  the  house  gave  them  leave  to  go  out 
and  run  about  till  tea  time !  They  ran  about 
carefully  it  is  true,  because  they  had  on  new 
shoes  and  nice  dresses ;  but  still  they  could  go 
down  to  the  pond  and  watch  the  ducks,  and 
pick  up  the  little  shells  that  lay  on  the  shore; 
and   above   all  they   could   talk. 

Then  came  tea,  with  its  variety  of  good 
things,  and  then  the  pleasant  walk  home  in  the 
starlight.  But  as  soon  as  they  got  home,  the 
two     children     seized     the     doll     with     her     new 


128  HARD     MAPLE. 

black  hair,  (it  was  quite  dry  now)  and  sat  in 
one  of  the  recesses  in  the  parlour  for  the 
rest  of  the  evening.  Pretty  places  those  recesses 
were,  each  side  of  the  fireplace ;  each  one  had 
a  large  window,  and  two  cupboards  —  one  long 
and  one   short. 

"If  we  could  have  this  for  our  play -room, 
how   nice   it   would   be ! "    said    Fulvi. 

"Well,"  said  Chryssa,  "we'll  ask  Aunt  Esther, 
—  I  dare  say  she'd  just  as  lieve  we'd  be  here 
as  any  where." 

But  though  Mrs.  Rutherford  had  no  manner 
of  objection  to  having  the  children  there,  she 
thought  —  and  so  did  Mrs.  Lee  —  that  the  dolls 
and   their   clothes  would   be   better  elsewhere. 

"Why  don't  you  play  in  the  garret?"  she 
said.  "That's  a  fine  large  place,  and  nobody  to 
disturb   you." 

"Well  I  guess  that  would  be  better,"  said 
both  the  young  ones  —  "because  there's  plenty  of 
room.  Only  we  can't  go  up  there  now  —  that's 
a  pity." 

It  was   astonishing  what   a   difference   the   com- 


HARD     MAPLE.  129 

in"-  of  Fulvi  had  made  in  Sybil —  she  seemed 
to  have  grown  up  all  at  once.  To  see  the 
way  in  which  she  carried  Mrs.  Lee's  little  baby 
round  the  house,  to  hear  her  call  Chryssa  and 
Fulvi  "the  children,"  you  would  have  thought 
she   must   be    quite   a   young   lady. 

But  Chryssa  and  Fulvi  did  not  mind  it  very 
much,  because  after  all  they  knew  they  were 
not    very  big. 

Now  the  children,  and  I  call  Sybil  one  of 
them,  hud  requested  to  be  allowed  to  make 
some  molasses  candy  that  night,  in  honour  of 
Fulvi's  arrival.  As  soon  therefore  as  Miss 
Flint  had  washed  up  her  own  tea  dishes,  she 
brought  out  the  iron  pot  and  set  it  on  the 
coals  in  front  of  the  kitchen  fire,  and  then 
poured  into  it  a  quantity  of  molasses  from  a 
great  stone  jug;  and  there  for  some  time  the 
pot  of  molasses  stood,  looking  quiet  enough, 
though  in  reality  it  was  getting  ready  to  boil 
just  as  hard  as  it  could.  By  and  by  a  thick 
yellow  scum  covered  it  all  over,  and  then  —  the 
first  thing  any  body  knew,  the  scum  began  to 
9 


130  HARD     MAPLE. 

rise  up  very  fast  to  the  top  of  the  pot,  and 
the  molasses  was  ready  to  boil  over!  But  Miss 
Flint  was  ready  too,  and  she  stirred  it  down, 
and  blew  it,  and  did  all  sorts  of  things  to 
make  it  keep  its  place  ;  and  at  last  it  was  content  to 
boil  on  quietly,  without  rushing  out  upon  the  hearth. 
When  this  point  was  reached,  the  children  thought 
the  candy  must  be  near  done,  and  they  ran  to 
get  a  spoon  and  a  cup  of  water  to  try  it.  Miss 
Flint  however  told  them  it  wasn't  beginning  to  be 
done  —  and  sure  enough,  the  drops  of  hot  mo- 
lasses that  went  into  the  cup,  instead  of  becoming 
thick  and  stiff,  became  just  drops  of  cold  mo- 
lasses! 

"  I  guess  the  molasses  isn't  good,"  said  the  chil- 
dren, peering  into  the  iron  pot. 

"The  molasses  is  first  rate,"  said  Miss  Flint, 
—  "but  candy  won't  get  done  in  a  minute." 

"I  think  it  has  been  a  good  many  minutes," 
said  Chryssa;  and  then  she  and  Fulvi  ran  back 
into  the  recess  to  talk  to  the  doll. 

The  molasses  boiled  and  boiled  —  sinking  down 
»n  the  iron  pot    till   all    the    children  were    afraid 


HARD     MAPLE.  131 

there  would  be  nothing  left  of  it.  The  first  cup 
of  water  was  poured  out,  and  filled  anew,  be- 
cause the  water  got  warm  with  so  much  hot 
molasses  dropped  into  it ;  and  little  fingers  got 
sticky,  and  little  hearts  grew  a  little  impatient. 
At  last,  even  Miss  Flint  said  it  was  done ;  and 
she  buttered  a  large  platter  and  poured  some  of 
the  hot  brown  stuff  on  it,  "  for  taffy ; "  and 
then  buttered  another  platter  and  poured  out 
the   rest   to   be   "  worked." 

Now  working  candy  is  by  no  means  an  easy 
matter,  for  the  candy  is  boiling  hot,  and  little 
fingers  tender  and  not  strong.  In  the  great 
candy  establishments  it  is  quite  another  affair, 
though  not  very  easy  even  there.  There  the 
candy  is  poured  out  upon  marble  slabs,  and 
strong  men  whose  hands  are  used  to  the  busi- 
ness roll  it  and  shove  it  about  till  it  cools  a 
little,  and  then  take  it  up  like  a  great  soft 
twist  of  sugar  and  throw  it  over  a  wooden 
hook  on  the  wall,  and  pull  both  ends  down 
together,  and  throw  it  over  the  hook  again,  and 
again   pull   it  down.     And  so  on,  while  the  sugar 


132  nARD     MAPLE. 

grows  white  and  candyish.  Then  they  lay  it  on 
the  marble  again,  and  pull  it  out  in  little  sticks, 
and   cut   them   off  with   a   great   pair  of  shears. 

But  here,  in  this  old  kitchen  at  Hard  Maple, 
everything  was  quite  different.  Here  were  no 
charcoal  ranges,  no  brilliant  gas  lights ;  but  a 
great  wood  fire  made  even  the  corners  as  light 
as  day,  and  threw  a  red  glow  on  the  white 
ceiling  and  the  painted  floor.  Then  instead  of 
strong  men,  with  paper  caps  on  their  heads, 
here  was  Miss  Flint  in  her  dark  calico  gown, 
pulling  a  long  bunch  of  candy  all  by  herself, 
—  pulling  it  out,  and  slapping  it  together,  and 
pulling  it  out  again,  in  a  wonderful  manner ; 
while  the  dark  brown  molasses  changed  to  light 
brown  and  then  to  yellow  under  her  hands. 
Here  were  Mrs.  Rutherford  and  Mrs.  Lee  pulling 
another  portion  between  them  with  all  their 
strength,  —  pulling  it  out  to  a  great  distance, 
and  then  (just  when  all  the  children  thought 
it  would  break  in  two  and  fall  to  the  floor) 
twisting  it  up  double  —  and  then  out  again,  —  while 
evervbodv    laughed.      Then    there   were   the   chil- 


HARD      MAPLE.  133 

dren  —  each  with  little  handful  of  candy,  which 
—  pull  and  pull  as  they  would,  —  would  not 
grow  light  coloured  like  the  rest.  There  was 
Mr.  Ruthven,  sitting  in  the  chimney  comer  and 
laughing  at  everybody,  especially  the  children ; 
and  there  was  old  Mrs.  Tortoise,  curled  up  on 
the  hearth,  forgetful  of  her  kittens  and  every 
thing  but  that  warm  fire,  unless  she  dreamed  of 
mice.  Lastly,  when  all  was  done,  there  were  the 
dishes  covered  with  taffy  —  with  little  uneven  sticks 
of  the  worked  candy,  and  there  was  the  empty 
iron    pot. 

After  which  every  body  eat  a  great  deal  of 
candy,  showed  how  she  had  blistered  her  hands 
pulling  it,  and  went  to  bed.  The  family  state 
of  mind  being  in  the  highest  degree  composed 
and  gratified  —  the  family  state  of  fingers  some- 
what  sticky. 


134  IIAKD     MAPLE. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

H^PJIIE  sun  himself  on  Saturday  morning  could 
<J&>  hardly  get  the  start  of  Chryssa  and  Fulvi. 
Not  more  nimbly  did  he  come  up  over  tlie  trees 
on  the  east  hili,  than  they  jumped  out  of  their 
warm  beds,  —  they  set  themselves  to  work  almost 
as  soon  as  he  did  the  birds  and  chickens,  —  his 
face  was  scarce  brighter  than  theirs.  Work !  — 
it  was  funny  work.  First  running  out  of  the 
front  door  to  see  how  the  weather  looked  —  then 
running  in  because  it  felt  cool  —  then  running 
out  because  they  couldn't  stay  in,  and  taking  a 
great  race  rounl  the  chip  yard  till  their  cheeks 
glowed  like  the  morning.  And  what  were  they 
laughing  at  ?  —  Nobody  could  tell !  —  they  least  of 
all.  Indeed  I  think  Mrs.  Rutherford  who  stood 
smiling  at  the  window  knew  best.  Clearly  Miss 
Flint  did  not,  for  she  went  to  the  back  door 
and  called  them  to  breakfast,  and  then  declared 
when    she    came   in,   that     "those     children     were 


HARD     MAPLE.  135 

tearing  round  like  mad  !  and  for  no  earthly  rea- 
son ! "  They  did  not  "  tear  into  the  house  like 
mad,"  however,  for  they  came  in  quietly  ;  nothing 
danced  but  their  eyes  —  nothing  was  out  of  place 
but  their  hair,  —  that,  I  must  confess,  was  a  little 
disordered.  But  it  was  the  wind's  fault,  Mr.  Ruth- 
ven    said   as    he    smoothed    it   down. 

Breakfast  over,  the  first  move  was  to  the  barn ; 
for  Chryssa  recollected  that  with  Fulvi's  coming 
and  the  tea-drinking,  she  had  quite  forgotten  yes- 
terday to  get  the  eggs ;  so  the  two  set  off  to- 
gether, the  basket  between  them.  But  it  was  a 
bad  time  of  day  for  getting  eggs,  —  every  nest 
seemed  to  have  a  hen  on ;  and  some  hens  looked 
cress  and  scolded,  and  others  looked  frightened 
and    a   mind    to   run   away. 

"  Well,"  said  Chryssa,  "  may  be  we'll  find  some 
new  nests,  any  way,  so  we'll  hunt  for  them ; " 
and  the  two  children  went  diving  and  climbing 
about   at  a  great   rate. 

Now  several  of  the  barns  were  full  of  hay, 
and  over  the  cow  sheds  were  lofts  with  open 
windows,   that    seemed    to   be   full   too.       In   one 


136  HARD     MAPLE. 

the  hay  came  very  little  above  the  window  sill, 
and  the  children  thought  it  so  very  likely  that 
nests  might  be  up  there,  that  they  determined  to 
go  in  and  see.  So,  carefully  and  with  some  trouble 
opening  the  lower  door,  which  was  fastened  with 
a  great  wooden  pin,  the  children  peeped  in.  Halt' 
the  lower  space  was  full  of  hay,  half  was  empty ; 
but  in  t'ne  part  where  there  was  no  hay,  there 
was  a  white  sheep,  —  a  sheep  with  two  twisted 
curly  horns,  and  eyes  which  looked  very  green 
in  that  dark  place. 

"What's   that   sheep  here   for?"    said    Fulvi. 

"  I  don't  know  "  —  said  Chryssa,  —  'k  maybe  it's 
the  sheep's  mother  that  they  killed  the  other 
day." 

"  Maybe    she'll    think  we  killed  it,"  said   Fulvi. 

"  O,  I  guess  she  won't "  —  said  Chryssa,  —  "I 
guess  we'll  go  in."  But  she  stood  with  the  door 
in    her   hand,    and    did    not   set   the   example. 

"  It  isn't  far,"  said  Fulvi.  "  We  can  just  run 
across    and    climb    up    the    hay." 

Chryssa  looked  at  Fulvi,  and  at  the  hay,  and 
at   the   sheep.      The   sheep   looked   at   them,   and 


II  A  K  D     MAPLE, 


137 


probably  wondered  very  much  what  they  wanted. 
Then  the  children  stepped  inside  and  pulled  the 
door  to,  and   ran   very  fast  across  the  little  shed, 

Mil 


and  climbed  up  very  fast  to  the  top  of  the  hay 
mow.  But  when  they  were  once  there,  you  would 
have  thought  they  had  run  past  a  wolf  instead 
of  a    quiet   sheep,  —  their  hearts    beat   and    they 


138  HARD    MAPLE. 

were  quite   out  of  breath.      And   after  all   there 
Avas   no   nest   in    the    mow ! 

Then  came  the  question  how  to  get  back,  — 
for  as  to  running  past  that  sheep  again,  neither 
Chryssa  nor  Fulvi  could  think  of  it.  And  though 
it  would  have  been  very  amusing  to  sit  in  the 
barn  and  talk  if  they  had  been  free  to  go  away, 
yet  to  be  prisoners  up  there,  with  that  curly-horned 
sheep  for  a  jailer,  was  not  amusing  at  all. 

"Well!"  said  Chryssa,  "it's  most  dinner  time — 
so  they'll  come  and  look  for  us : "  but  as  she 
said  so  she  herself  looked  out  of  the  window 
and  thought  about  jumping  down.  It  was  not 
very  far  from  the  ground,  but  to  such  little  people 
it  seemed  further  than  it  really  was,  and  both 
sat  down  in  the  hay  again.  Then  both  peeped 
over  at  the  sheep  —  and  the  sheep  looked  up  at 
them   with   its   green   eyes. 

I  don't  know  how  long  this  went  on,  —  to  the 
children  it  seemed  a  great  while;  but  at  length 
they   heard    Sybil's    voice. 

"  Children  !  "    she  called. 

And  Chryssa  and  Fulvi  both  answered  as  loud 
as    they    could, 


HARD      MAPLE.  13£ 

"  Here    we   are  !   in   the   cow  shed  !  " 

"Children!"  said  Sybil  again, —  and  again  they 
called   out   as   before. 

Then  Sybil  came  down  the  road  and  through 
the  door  into  the  barn  yard,  and  stood  looking 
about,  with  the  baby  in  her  arms. 

"  Where  are  you  ?  "   she  said. 

"  Why,  we're  up  here ! "  said  Chryssa  and  Fulvi, 
looking   out  of  the    window. 

"  Up  there  !  "  said  Sybil,  —  "  well  I  never  saw 
such  children!  What  are  you  doing  up  there, 
for  pity's  sake?" 

"  Why  we  came  up  here  to  look  for  eggs," 
said  Chryssa. 

"  Well,  what  are  you  staying  there  for  ? "  said 
Sybil.  "Are  you  waiting  for  the  hens  to 
lay  'em?" 

"There  aren't  any  hens  here,  that's  the  worst 
of  it,"  said  Fulvi :  "  we  came  up  all  for  noth- 
ing." 

"  Why  don't  you  come  down  then  ? "  said  Sybil, 
while  Chryssa  clapped  her  hands  at  the  baby, 
and   the   baby   danced  in   reply. 


140  HARD     MAPLE. 

"  Because  there's  a  sheep  down  there,  and  we're 
afraid,"    said   both    the    children. 

"  Afraid !  "  said  Sybil  very  contemptuously,  — 
"  afraid    of  a  sheep  !  " 

"  O,  but   it's    got   horns,"    said  Chryssa. 

"  And    green    eyes,"    said    Fulvi. 

"  Well "  —  said  Sybil,  —  "  eyes  don't  hurt  any 
body  —  nor    horns    either,  —  sheep's    horns." 

"  If  you'll  just  open  the  door  and  stand  there," 
said    Chryssa,    "  then    we'll    come  down." 

"'I  shan't  do  it  at  all,"  said  Sybil.  "It's  fool- 
ish to  be  afraid  of  nothing,  and  I'm  not  going  to 
encourage  it." 

"  Then    we    shan't   come   down,"    said   Fulvi. 

"Very  well,"  said  Sybil.  "What  two  little 
geese  ! " 

"  Well  now,  Syb,"  said  Chryssa,  "  it's  no  use 
to   call   us  geese  —  you'd   be    afraid   yourself." 

"  I    shouldn't  indeed,"    said    Sybil. 

"  You're  older,  any  how,"  said  Chryssa.  "  But 
if  you'd  just  stand  inside  the  door,  we'd  come 
right  down." 

"No,"  — said     Sybil  —  "  I'll     wait     for     you 


DASD     MAPLE.  141 

here.  And  you'd  better  come  —  dinner's  almost 
ready." 

"  Well,  we're  not  coming  down  unless  you  come 
inside,"    said    Chryssa. 

'•Very  well"  —  said  Sybil.  "Come  baby,  we'll 
go."  And  off  she  walked,  and  they  heard  her  go 
out  of  the  barnyard. 

Now  was  the  case  desperate,  —  now  did  Chryssa 
and  Fulvi  look  at  each  other  and  not  know  what 
to  do.  Of  course  the  sheep  had  grown  much 
larger  while  they  had  been  in  the  hay,  and  its 
horns  were  more  curly,  and  its  eyes  greener.  Go 
down  past  that  sheep?  —  not  for  breakfast,  dinner, 
and  supper. 

"  Well,  Fulvi,"  said  Chryssa  with  a  sigh,  "  we 
may   as    well  jump !     It   isn't    very   far." 

So  Chryssa  took  hold  of  her  short  dress  and 
tucked  it  up  very  carefully  lest  it  might  catch 
in  the  hay,  and  down  she  jumped  out  of  the 
window  —  and  Fulvi  after  her  !  But  it  wasn't  very 
far,  as  she  said,  and  the  ground  was  very  soft, 
and  the  two  children  much  like  kittens,  —  so  they 
lighted   on   their   feet  and   didn't    hurt  themselves 


142  HARD     MAPLE. 

one  bit ;  but  ran  off  like  two  larks  —  or  two 
mice    let   out     of  prison. 

"  So ! "  said  Sybil  as  they  came  running  into  the 
house,   "  the   sheep   didn't   eat  you  up,  after   all." 

"  He  didn't  have  a  chance  "  —  said  Chryssa,  — 
"  we  jumped   out   of  the   window." 

Sybil  looked  rather  startled  at  that,  and  read 
them  a  long  lecture  about  the  danger  of  jump- 
ing in  general,  and  out  of  windows  in  particu- 
lar. At  all  of  which  the  children  laughed  very 
much.  It  was  a  fine  thing  to  jump  out  of  the 
cow  shed   window  —  after   it   was   done  ! 

The  afternoon  was  a  little  rainy,  and  Chryssa 
and  Fulvi  thought  it  was  a  good  time  to  take 
possession  of  their  garret  play-room.  It  was  a 
queer  old  house,  this  one  of  Mr.  Ruthven's,  as 
you  will  think  when  I  show  you  the  way  up  to  the 
garret.  The  upper  hall,  where  the  staircase  came 
to  an  end,  was  more  like  a  room,  it  was  so  large ; 
and  while  the  staircase  wound  down  from  the 
back  of  it,  the  whole  front  was  one  large  win- 
dow in  three  divisions,  which  looked  out  upon 
the   great   trees   and   the   little   porch   roof  where 


HARD     MAPLE.  143 

the  green  moss  grew.  From  this  window  you 
could  see  the  great  branches  wave  and  flutter 
their  dark  green  leaves,  and  the  oriole's  nest 
that  hung  like  a  cradle  between  two  long  branches, 
so  high  and  limber  that  not  Mrs.  Tortoiseshell 
herself  could  ever  hope  to  get  there.  And  you 
could  see  the  brook  as  it  came  out  from  under 
the  fence,  and  the  meadow  beyond,  and  the  wood- 
peckers   tapping   the   old   trees   for   insects. 

On  either  side  of  the  hall  was  a  large  room: 
one  (where  Chryssa  had  slept  all  the  time)  looked 
out  upon  the  east  hill  with  two  of  its  four  large 
windows,  —  the  other  room  had  two  windows  in 
front,  and  at  the  side  three  doors.  One  led  into 
a  large  closet,  and  another  into  a  little  closet,  and 
each  had  a  window  of  its  own.  The  third  door 
led    to    the    garret   stairs. 

The  garret  was  very  large,  for  it  went  clear 
across  the  whole  breadth  of  the  house,  and  it 
had  queer  little  oval  windows  at  each  end,  from 
which  you  looked  down,  down  into  the  meadow 
and  over  the  apple  trees.  The  windows  were 
covered  with  dust  and  cobwebs,  for  many  a  spider 


141:  HARD     MAPLE. 

had  not  only  his  play-room  but  his  house  up 
here ;  and  the  floor  was  half  covered  with  but- 
ternuts. The  butternuts  had  lain  there  since  last 
year,  and  were  quite  dry  and  brown,  and  gave 
a  queer  and  pleasant  smell  to  the  garret.  The 
part  where  the  nuts  were  not,  was  at  the  head 
of  the  stairs,  and  by  the  window  where  the  sun 
came  in  as  well  as  he  could  for  the  cobwebs, 
alongside  of  the  great  brick  chimney.  The  only 
thing  to  be  desired  was  a  little  more  privacy  and 
security ;  for  as  the  garret  door  was  fastened 
with  a  button  on  the  bedroom  side,  Chryssa  and 
Fnlvi  could  not  fasten  it  after  them  when  they 
went  up ;  and  not  only  might  somebody  else 
fasten  them  in,  but  Sybil  might  perchance  hear 
what  they  were  talking  about.  However,  they 
agreed  to  talk  softly ;  and  for  the  rest,  if  the 
door  was  fast  why  they  could  burst  the  button 
off —  they  were  so  strong  !  To  people  who  had 
already  jumped  out  of  a  window,  what  was  a  brown 
button    on  a  yellow  garret  door  ? 

Up   here  therefore,  with   great   zeal   and   pleas- 
ure,   the    two    children    carried     all     their    play- 


HARD     MAPLE.  145 

things,  —  the  two  dolls,  Fulvi's  wicker  cradle,  and 
Chryssa's  hox  of  tin  pails  and  kettles ;  and  having 
moreover  procured  two  pieces  of  bread,  and  two 
little  tiny  plates  of  the  molasses  candy,  they  pulled 
the  door  to  as  tight  as  they  could,  mounted  the 
Stan's,  and   felt  established. 

Down  through  the  dusty  window  they  could  see 
the  rain  as  it  fell;  wrapping  all  the  hills  in  mist, 
and  drooping  the  leaves,  and  dampening  the  white 
cock's  tail  feathers.  It  even  pattered  softly  against 
the  window,  as  saying  —  "  Let  me  in,  and  I  will 
wash  your  face"  —  but  only  made  it  look  dustier 
than  ever,  if  that  could  be.  Now  and  then  a  little 
country  wagon  trotted  along  the  road,  the  hay- 
makers came  in  from  the  field,  and  the  cattle  drew 
near  together  under  the  trees. 

Chryssa  and  Fulvi  paid  not  much  attention  to 
all  this.  Now  and  then,  to  be  sure,  they  looked 
out,  but  they  oftener  looked  in,  and  thought  what 
a  splendid  place  the  garret  was.  And  perhaps  it 
was  as  well  that  the  garret  door  could  not  be 
fastened,  for  they  would  just  have  been  opening 
and  shutting  it  all  the  afternoon.  First  Chryssa 
10 


146  HARD     MAPLE. 

ran  down  for  the  little  bundle  of  dress  patterns 
Miss  Mantilla  had  cut  for  her  doll,  —  then  Fulvi 
ran  down  for  some  scraps  of  calico,  —  then  Chryssa 
ran  down  for  a  spool  of  thread.  For  it  had  sud- 
denly been  discovered  that  the  two  dolls  wei*e 
sadly  in  want  of  summer  dresses,  and  of  course  the 
first   thing  was  to  make  them. 

Thus  they  sat,  deep  in  their  work  and  talk,  when 
all  of  a  sudden  Sybil's  head  appeared,  half  way  up 
the  garret  stairs. 

"Now  Syb!"  said  Chryssa— "  that's  too  bad! 
to  come  there  and  hear  all  we  say." 

"I  didn't  hear  all,"  said  Sybil;  "I  heard  only 
part;  and  that  wasn't  very  important.  But  Miss 
Flint  says  she  is  going  to  pare  the  cheese,"  —  and 
down    went  Sybil. 

Down  went  the  two  young  ones  after  her,  to  see 
Miss  Flint  take  the  cheese  from  the  press,  and 
pare  off  the  uneven  edges ;  and  when  she  gave 
them  the  parings  to  eat,  then  they  understood  what 
she  had  meant  by  their  having  "a  fine  time." 
And  the  parings  were  as  good  as  the  time. 


HARD      MAPLE.  147 


G 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

HE  next  day  was  Sunday.  The  birds  sang 
on  as  usual  —  or  perhaps  a  little  more ; 
but  Miss  Dolly  sat  quiet  in  the  garret,  and 
Chryssa  and  Fulvi  sat  down  in  the  porch  and 
learned  hymns.  They  dressed  at  once  for 
church  when  they  first  got  up,  so  there  was 
nothing  more  to  do  but  read  and  talk  and 
enjoy  the  sweet  morning,  till  the  wagon  was 
ready.  Chryssa  and  Fulvi  thought  they  would 
both  learn  the  same  hymn,  and  this  was  the 
one   they  chose. 

"Holy  children  read  and  pray, 
Love  God's  holy  word  and  day; 
Fly  from  sin  and  seek  his  grace, 
Learn  his  will,  and  Christ  embrace; 
They  are  humble,  meek,  and  mild: 
Lord,  make  me  a  holy  child. 

"  Holy  children,  when  they  die, 
Go  to  Christ  above  the  sky ; 
Take  their  seats  around  his  thro»», 
Make  his  praise  forever  known. 
Now  my  heart  is  sin  denied, 
Lord,  make  me  a  holy  rbild." 


148  HARD      MAPLE. 

"  I  don't  know  what  '  denied '  means,"  said 
Fulvi  when  she   had  read   it   over. 

"Well,  we  can  ask  by  and  by,"  said  Chryssa, 
and  she  went  on  learning.  "  I  guess  it  means 
bad." 

"  "Well,  what  does  '  fly '  mean  ?  "  said  Fulvi. 
"I    can't   fly." 

"  No,  but  you  can  run  away,"  said  Chryssa  — 
'I  s'pose  that's  just  as  good.  I  know  Aunt 
Esther  has  told  me  to  run  away  if  I  couldn't 
jpeak  pleasantly.  "What's  Aaron  going  to  do 
with    the    horse  ?  " 

Aaron  at  this  moment  came  slowly  down  the 
hill,  leading  the  brown  horse,  and  the  brown 
horse  in  his   turn  drawing  the   wagon. 

"  Don't  he  know  we  are  going  to  church  ? " 
said    Fulvi.     "I  guess    I'll   run    and   tell   him." 

"  O  he  knows,"  said  Chryssa.  "  Grandpa  told 
him." 

Aaron  opened  the  big  gate  and  went  through, 
and  then  he  led  the  horse  right  into  the  midst 
of  the   brook,  and   began   to    wash   the   wagon. 

"  Grandpa  wouldn't    like    to    have   him   do  that, 


HARD      MAPLE.  149 

Sunday,"  said  Chryssa.  "And  he's  in  his  room 
and   don't  know." 

But  neither  of  the  children  thought  it  worth 
while  to  interfere  with  Aaron,  so  they  sat  and 
looked  on  till  the  horse  and  wagon  came  out 
of  the  brook,  looking  very  wet  and  clean  and 
shiny. 

Then   Fulvi  jumped   up. 

"  O    Chryssa !   we  must  go  and  get  some  dill ! " 

"What  for?"  said  Chryssa.  "We've  got  to 
go   and   get   ready." 

"O  but  we  want  the  dill  to  take  to  church," 
said  Fulvi.     "  People  always  take  dill  to  church." 

Chryssa  knew  that  she  didn't,  if  people  did, 
and  was  quite  sure  she  shouldn't  want  it.  But 
she  thought  it  might  be  nice  to  have  some  to 
eat  on  the  way,  so  she  followed  Fulvi  into  the 
garden,  and  they  gathered  ever  so  many  little 
stems  of  dill,  and  tied  them  up  in  two  large 
bunches.  Then  they  ran  in  and  put  on  their 
bonnets,  and  every  body  that  could  got  into  the 
wagon,  and  those  who  could  not  were  willing 
to   walk. 


150  HARD     MAPLE. 

But  as  Mr.  Rutherford  put  Chryssa  in,  he 
said,  "  Are  you  going  to  eat  all  that  in  church  ? " 

Now  Chryssa  knew  that  she  hadn't  meant  to 
eat  any  of  it  in  church ;  but  she  wasn't  apt  to 
defend  herself  against  false  charges,  and  besides 
the  wagon  started  off  and  she  had  not  much 
time.  She  sat  looking  at  her  green  bunch  of 
dill  for  a  while,  and  then  put  her  hand  over 
the  edge  of  the  wagon  and  dropped  the  dill 
right  down  in  the  road ;  and  she  wouldn't  take 
any   more,  though    Fulvi    offered   part   of  hers. 

The  bell  rang  out  of  the  square,  white  church 
tower,  before  the  little  wagon  got  near,  but  the 
bell  itself  could  not  be  seen,  for  there  were 
some  green  blinds  round  it  on  every  side. 
Down  in  the  porch  a  man  stood,  pulling  a  long 
rope  which  was  fastened  to  the  bell.  There 
were  other  people  standing  in  the  porch  and  on 
the  steps  —  boys  and  men,  most  of  them;  and 
women  and  little  girls  were  going  in  and  tak- 
ing their  seats ;  and  Chryssa  saw  that  several 
had  bunches  of  dill.  Under  the  trees  in  front 
of  the   church   a   good   many  horses   and   wagons 


HARD      MAPLE.  151 

were  tied  —  and  then  Chryssa  herself  went  in 
and  could  see  no  more.  There  she  sat  and 
watched  the  people  as  they  came  in,  and  saw 
some  looking  so  grave  that  she  thought  they 
must  be  very  good  indeed;  but  she  felt  a  little 
afraid  of  them.  And  when  Fulvi  told  her  that 
the  two  children  in  the  next  pew  were  the 
minister's  children,  Chryssa  found  herself  looking 
at  them  very  often,  and  wondering  whether  they 
kept  still  because  they  wanted  to,  or  because 
their  father  was  up  in  the  pulpit.  She  thought 
the  singing  was  very  sweet,  for  there  was  no 
organ  nor  any  thing  of  the  sort,  but  a  whole 
row  of  people  at  the  back  of  the  church  stood 
up  and  sang  together;  and  Chryssa  liked  very 
much  to  turn  round  and  look  at  them,  but  she 
didn't  feel  sure  that  it  was  quite  right.  There 
was  another  thing  which  surprised  her  very 
much,  for  many  of  the  boys  and  men  she  had 
seen  in  the  porch  did  not  come  into  church 
till  after  the  first  prayer;  and  Chryssa  thought 
that  if  they  must  come  in  just  then  they  might 
walk  a  little   softly — which   they   did   not. 


152  HARD     MAPLE. 

When  service  was  over,  a  good  many  people 
went  to  the  different  houses  about  the  church, 
to  wait  for  an  hour,  for  then  there  would  be 
service  again ;  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Rutherford  and 
Mrs.  Lee  did  so  too.  Then  Chryssa  and  Fulvi 
sat  up  very  straight  and  still,  and  took  a  little 
piece  of  the  cake  that  one  of  the  young  ladies 
handed  round,  and  eat  it  with  the  greatest  grav- 
ity and  propriety ;  catching  all  the  crumbs  in 
their  frocks,  and  then  going  to  the  front  door 
to  shake  them  out  —  which  was  quite  a  pleasant 
little  excursion.  Then  the  bell  began  to  ring 
again,  and  people  put  on  their  bonnets  and 
walked  to  the  church ;  and  the  long  row  of 
singers  stood  up  and  sang,  and  the  little  girls 
eat  all  the  dill  they  had  left  from  the  morning, 
and  the  boys  and  men  came  in  just  as  late  as 
before.  Then  every  body  got  into  the  wagons 
and   went  home. 

How  pleasant  the  ride  home  was !  with  the 
fresh  air  and  the  afternoon  sunshine ;  and  the 
children  had  been  sitting  still  so  long  that  now 
they   could   hardly   sit   still   any   longer;   so    Mrs. 


HARD      MAPLE.  153 

Rutherford  let  them  get  out  at  the  foot  of 
every  long  hill,  and  run  up  to  the  top  —  that 
was   quite    delightful. 

Then  when  they  got  home  Miss  Flint  gave 
them  tea  and  dinner  together,  which  tasted  as 
good   as   possible  —  they  were   so   hungry. 

After  tea,  Mrs.  Rutherford  and  Mrs.  Lee  told 
the  children  they  might  all  go  up  on  the  east 
hill  to  see  the  sun  set,  and  the  two  ladies  went 
along ;  and  they  sat  down  on  the  rocks  there 
together. 

"  O  Aunt  Esther,"  said  Sybil,  "  this  is  a  grand 
time   for  a   story  !  " 

Mrs.  Rutherford  .-miled,  and  looked  at  all  the 
eager    little    faces,  and    then    she    said, 

"  Well,  I  will  tell  you  a  story  that  might 
have  been  true  —  indeed  I  think  the  most  of  it 
is   true. 

"  There  was  once  a  pretty  village  built  upon 
a  green  hill-side.  The  hill  was  very  green  and 
the  village  houses  were  very  white,  and  they 
were  scattered  up  and  down,  from  the  valley  to 
the    very  brow    of    the    hill   where     the    church 


154  HARD     MAPLE. 

stood.  Some  people  wondered  why  the  church 
was  built  so  high  up,  and  said  it  was  a  great 
deal  of  trouble  to  get  to  it ;  but  the  view  from 
the  church  was  very  beautiful,  and  worth  going 
up  the  hill  for,  if  there  had  been  no  other 
reason. 

"  In  this  village  there  were  a  good  many 
children,  both  boys  and  girls,  and  they  thought 
nothing  of  the  hill,  but  would  run  up  and  down, 
steep  as  it  was.  And  every  Sunday  they  all 
went  to  church  and  to  Sunday  school,  and  be- 
haved pretty  much  as  other  children  do.  Some 
were  quiet  and  some  fidgety ;  some  listened 
and  some  went  to  sleep.  Now  it  happened  one 
warm  Sunday  afternoon,  that  after  church  was 
over  the  children  went  home  to  tea  and  then 
came  out  again,  and  as  if  they  had  agreed 
upon  it  beforehand,  five  or  six  little  ones  went 
up   to   the     church     steps     and    sat    down     there. 

"The  village  houses  looked  very  bright  in  the 
setting  sun,  and  the  windows  glittered  like  dia- 
monds. The  children  looked  at  it  for  a  little 
while,   then    presently   they   began  to   talk. 


HARD      MAPLE.  155 

" '  Did  you  see  Miss  Simpson's  bonnet,  Kitty  ? 
I  should  think  there  was  a  whole  piece  of  rib- 
and  on   it.' 

" '  Yes  indeed,'  said  Kitty,  '  and  her  frock  was 
trimmed   up   like   every   thing.' 

" '  And  Mary  Simpson's  mantilla,'  said  another 
girl,  —  'did   you    see    that'}'' 

« « "Why  I  was  talking  to  her  for  ever  so 
long,'  said  another,  '  and  she  told  me  where  her 
mother   got   it.' 

" '  Church  is  a  fine  place  to  see  things ! '  said 
Kitty,  — '  people  always  wear  the  best  they've  got, 
so  you  have  a  chance.  Molly  Bradner  shewed 
me  her  gold  ring,  that  somebody  gave  her.  And 
Mrs.    Brown   had   on    a   bracelet   so    big ! '  — 

" '  Everybody  was  at  church  to-day,'  said 
Debby;   'it   was   such   a   fine   day.' 

"'I  wonder  if  Jane  Low  saw  any  thing,'  said 
Kitty,  looking  round  the  group  towards  a  little 
girl  who  sat  by  herself  on  one  corner  of  the 
steps.     '  She   never   does ! ' 

" '  Jane  Low  ! '  called  Debby,  — '  what  have  you 
Been   to-day  ? ' 


156  HARD      MAPLE. 

"  Jane   started  and   looked   round. 

u  i  Were  y0U  talking  to  me  ? '  she  said.  '  Isn't 
it  beautiful  ? ' 

"'What?'  said  the  children,  laughing  at  each 
other. 

" '  Why  every  thing ! '  said  Jane.  '  Just  look  at 
the  hill,  how  green  it  is,  —  and  the  sky's  as 
blue  as  your  frock,  Kitty.  And  see  how  the 
sun   shines   on   all   the   windows.' 

" '  As  if  it  didn't  do  that  every  night ! '  said 
Kitty.     '  Is    that    all   you've   seen   to-day,   Jane  ? ' 

"Jane  looked  as  if  she  knew  they  were  laugh- 
ing  at   her,  but   couldn't   tell   why. 

" '  I  don't  suppose  I  can  see  as  much  as 
some  do,'  she  said  quietly,  '  but  I  can  see  enough 
to   make   me   feel   glad.' 

"'Well  what  did  you  see  in  church?'  said 
Debby,  —  'let's  hear.  Maybe  you  saw  more  than 
anybody.' 

"Jane   smiled,  but   shook   her  head. 

"'No,  I  didn't,'  she  said,  — 'I  don't  know 
enough   to   see   a   great   deal.' 

" '  Well   who   was   in   church  ? '  said   Kitty. 


HARD      MAPLE.  157 

"'I  suppose  everybody  was'  —  said  Jane, 'but 
I  don't  know.  I  know  God  was  there,  and  it 
seemed  almost  as  if  I  could  see  him,  —  almost,' 
she   repeated,  folding   her   hands. 

"The  children  hushed  a  little  at  that,  and 
stood  looking  at  her.  But  Jane  said  no  more; 
and  after  a  little  while  she  got  up  and  walked 
down  the  hill  towards  home,  and  the  rest  of  the 
children   followed   her   silently." 


158  HARD      MAPLE. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

Q)  Y  this  time  the  hay  was  all  cut  and  put*' 
away,  and  now  the  men  were  busy  at 
the  harvest;  cradling  wheat  with  their  great 
cradles,  or  with  their  little  sickles  reaping  the 
oats.  Then  the  farm  wasron  would  come  along 
the  road  loaded  with  yellow  grain,  and  the  oxen 
seemed  as  if  they  could  hardly  draw  it  up  the 
hill  and  into  the  barn;  and  Aaron  made  such 
a  noise  calling  to  them,  that  the  children  kept 
running  out  to  see  what  was  the  matter.  Often 
too,  they  went  with  Mr.  Ruthven  to  the  grain 
field,  to  see  the  grain  cut  and  bound  up  in 
sheaves,  and  the  cart  loaded.  The  field  was 
rather  rough  to  walk  in,  for  it  was  covered 
with  stubble,  but  it  was  beautiful  and  sweet ;  and 
in  the  corners  grew  bunches  of  tall  flowers,  and 
sometimes  blackberries.  The  little  birds  came 
down  to  pick  up  the  scattered  grain,  and  Chryssa 
and    Fulvi    tried     to    eat    it    too,    but    it    was    so 


HARD    MAPLE.  159 

small   and    hard    that    they    would     have   been    a 
good    while    getting   a   breakfast    that    way. 

But  there  was  one  place  where  the  sheaves 
of  wheat  and  the  bundles  of  oats  became  yet 
more  fascinating,  and  that  was  in  the  big  brown 
barn.  Here  therefore  the  children  used  to  go 
and  sit,  climbing  up  over  the  bundles  to  a  good 
place,  and  then  choosing  and  cutting  the  long 
yellow  straws,  cutting  off  the  ear  of  grain,  and 
tying  up  the  pretty  straws  in  little  bundles.  No 
one  can  tell  how  sweet  it  was.  Through  the 
great  open  door  they  could  see  the  house  and 
the  trees  and  the  chip  yard  and  the  blue  sky; 
far  off  in  the  distance  they  could  hear  Aaron 
screaming  to  his  oxen ;  and  every  now  and 
then  the  oxen  themselves  came  in  sight,  toiling 
along  with  another  load  of  grain,  putting  their 
heads  together  to  consult  as  to  the  possibility 
of  ever  getting  it  home.  But  the  upper  barn 
floor  where  the  children  sat  was  full,  except  in 
the  middle  —  over  the  trap  door,  and  Aaron  would 
drive  round  to  the  lower  floor;  and  then  the 
children  could  hear  him  hallooing,  and  the  oxen 
stamping,  away  down   below   their   feftt.. 


160  HARD     MAPLE. 

Then  Chryssa  and  Fulvi  from  their  high 
perch  up  in  the  straw  bundles,  would  see  Sybil 
coming  out  of  the  house; — whereupon  they  at 
once  scrambled  further  back  and  hid  themselves. 
Sybil   came   on   to   the   barn. 

"  Children  ! "   she   called. 

Nothing  stirred  —  unless  something  which 
sounded  like  a  mouse  in  the  straw,  and  Sybil 
couldn't  bear  mice ;  so  she  stepped  back  a  little. 
(In  reality  it  was  Chryssa  and  Fulvi  laughing 
and    shaking   the    straw.) 

"  Children  !  "  — 

"Well,"  said  Sybil  after  another  pause,  "you 
needn't  come  if  you  don't  want  to !  I  know 
you're    here." 

"  Peep ! "  cried  out  both  the  young  ones  to- 
gether. 

"  What  silly  children ! "  said  Sybil,  looking 
about  for  mice.  "Here  —  Miss  Flint  was  bak- 
ing  cakes,   and   I   brought  you   out   some." 

Which  of  course  brought  the  children  out,  at 
once,  for  people  who  go  in  the  barn  and  cut 
straw   always   get   hungry. 


HARD    MAPLE.  161 

The  next  thing  after  cutting  the  straws,  was 
to  know  what  to  do  with  them ;  but  that  was 
soon  found  out.  Mrs.  Rutherford  said  she  would 
teach  them  how  to  braid  the  straw,  and  then 
if  they  chose  they  might  sew  the  braid  together 
and  make  themselves  hats.  This  seemed  a 
splendid  plan,  and  Chryssa  at  once  determined 
to  make  a  hat  for  her  grandfather,  and  asked 
him  if  she  might;  and  Mr.  Ruthven  not  only 
said  yes,  but  declared  that  he  should  enjoy  such 
a  hat  very  much,  and  that  he  was  really  quite 
in  want  of  a  new  one,  to  wear  when  he  went 
into  the  field.  So  Chryssa  and  Fulvi  set  to 
work,  and  bundles  of  straw,  and  straw  braids, 
were  the  only  things  talked  of  for  a  while. 
Sometimes  they  sat  out  under  the  trees  to  braid, 
holding  long  confidential  talks  about  their  dolls 
the  while ;  sometimes  seated  in  front  of  the  blaz- 
ing wood  fire  they  worked  away  by  its  light. 
But  as  one  great  thing  often  suggests  another, 
thus  it  happened  with  the  straws ;  for  when 
Chryssa  had  braided  a  foot  or  two,  and  rolled 
it  up  to  be  out  of  her  way,  the  roll  looked  so 
11 


1 62  HAKD     MAPLE. 

pretty  and  so  like  a  little  straw  mat,  that  she 
at  once  perceived  it  would  be  an  excellent  thing 
for  Dolly  to  wipe  her  feet  on.  The  hats  were 
therefore  laid  by  for  the  present,  and  mats  be- 
came the  order  of  the  day.  Then  it  seemed 
wise,  as  they  were  making  mats,  to  make  a 
good  many  and  open  a  store,  —  and  then  of 
course  the  store  must  have  something  else  in  it. 

What  a  series  of  manufactures  was  thereupon 
called  forth!  —  straw  mats,  then  straw  brooms,  then 
a  little  bit  of  old  tin  was  cut  and  bent  into  the 
form  of  a  dust  pan ;  then  Chryssa  got  a  bit  of 
stick  for  the  handle  of  a  brush,  and  having  with 
great  labour  made  half  a  dozen  holes  in  it  at 
one  end,  she  glued  three  or  four  pine  leaves  into 
each  hole  for  the  bristles.  Then  she  and  Fulvi 
went  down  to  the  meadow  and  gathered  rushes, 
and  platted  them  into  sword  belts,  and  wove 
them  into  grenadier  caps,  and  peeled  them  for 
rush  lights ;  though  this  last  was  a  difficult  matter, 
and  they  wondered  very  much  how  the  children 
in  the  story  of  "The  Orphans"  had  managed. 
Then  they  gathered   milkweed  pods,  and    took  out 


HARD     MAPLE.  1 63 

the  silk  very  carefully  and  dried  it  in  the  sun ; 
but  do  all  they  could,  it  would  break  when  they 
twisted  it,  and  could  be  sold  only  in  skeins  — 
as    raw    silk. 

Then  Chryssa  with  a  good  deal  of  trouble 
made  a  little  straw  ladder,  with  two  long  straws 
for  the  sides  and  little  short  straws  let  in  for 
the  rungs,  —  and  then  she  made  a  straw  rake, 
with  split  straws  for  teeth.  And  these  two  new 
manufactures  were  really  very  pretty,  though  not 
of  a  sort  to  be  extremely  useful.  The  dust 
pan  and  brush  were  useful  however,  for  one 
day  when  Miss  Flint  had  been  cutting  bread, 
and  left  crumbs  on  the  table,  Chryssa  fell  to 
work,  and  really  got  quite  a  number  of  the 
crumbs  into  the  pan  with  the  little  pine  brush. 
At  which    Mr.   Ruthven  was    very    much    amused. 

It  next  occurred  to  the  little  storekeepers, 
that  though  they  had  no  gourds  to  make  little 
pails  of,  yet  perhaps  cucumbers  would  do  just 
as  well ;  and  many  a  fat  yellow  cucumber  was 
saved  from  the  pigs,  cut  open,  emptied,  and  left 
to    dry.     But    that  was  as    bad    as    the    rushlights, 


164  HARD      MAPLE. 

for  instead  of  being  smooth  and  round  and 
hard,  the  new  pails  shrivelled  up,  would  not 
hold  water,  and  were  by  no  means  pleasant  in 
point   of  perfume. 

Then  a  flock  of  sheep  seemed  desirable  — 
(for  this  was  a  true  country  store,  and  would 
hold  any  thing)  but  it  was  a  hard  idea  to 
work  out,  —  till  they  bethought  themselves  of  the 
ripe  purple  beans  in  the  garden,  and  then,  with 
Mr.  Ruthven's  leave,  they  had  sheep  enough. 
In  some  of  the  pods  too,  there  were  sickly 
looking  little  half  grown  beans,  that  kept  their 
whitish  colour,  and  these  answered  admirably  for 
lambs.  It  is  true  the  mutton  was  not  of  first 
quality  for  eating,  but  Chryssa  and  Fulvi  having 
other  mutton  in  the  house,  cared  little  for  that. 
Indeed  they  sometimes  tried  to  eat  their  own, 
but  the  attempt  generally  ended  in  a  wry  face ; 
nor  was  it  much  better  when  roasted  on  the  end 
of  a  pin,  before  the  oven  mouth  or  over  the 
candle. 

Then  they  gathered  bunches  of  herbs,  espe- 
cially  pennyroyal ;    which    as   it   grew   wild    every 


HAKD     MAPLE.  165 

where,  was  easy  for  them  to  get  but  not  likely 
to  be  bought  by  other  people.  Then  they  picked 
tho  little  seeds  of  the  mallows,  and  kept  them 
for  cheeses.  And  suddenly  it  occurred  to  them 
both   one    day,  that   they  might   sell    feathers  too! 

What   a   bright    idea ! 

Down  went  the  bundles  of  straw,  unfinished 
mats,  ladders,  and  brooms,  and  off  started  the 
children  on  a  full  run  for  that  region  of  won- 
ders, the  barn.  Under  one  of  the  sheds  the 
chickens  were  accustomed  to  roost,  and  moreover 
they  often  dropped  a  feather  there  on  the  way  to 
and  from  their  nests ;  therefore  the  assortment 
was  quite  large.  Stiff  brown  wing  feathers,  that 
might  almost  be  used  for  quills,  and  little  soft 
downy  white  feathers,  that  were  admirable  for  a 
doll's  bonnet.  Then  the  long  greenish-black  tail 
feathers  of  the  old  cock  were  handsome  enough 
to  be  sold  by  themselves,  without  being  good  for 
anything,  and    an  occasional  contribution  from  the 

peacock  was  worth  any  price it  would  bring! 

Chryssa  and  Fulvi  laid  down  the  just  law  that 
each    should  have    all    6he    found,    then   gathered 


166  HARD     MAPLE 

and  carried  off  their  prizes;  and  from  that  day 
the  first  thing  after  breakfast  was  always  to  run 
down  and  look  for  feathers  —  which  for  greater 
safe  keeping,  and  security  against  large  brooms 
and  dustpans,  were  not  carried  to  the  house,  but 
stowed   away  in  an  old  red  sleigh  at  the  barn. 

Meanwhile,  the  weather  was  warm,  —  and  a  new 
amusement  came  up.  This  was  to  bathe  in  the 
brook.  The  brook  was  so  clear  and  cool  and 
beautiful,  and  the  little  fishes  seemed  to  enjoy 
themselves  in  it  so  much,  that  the  children 
thought  they  should  enjoy  themselves  too,  and 
wanted  very  much  to  try.  In  one  part  of  the 
meadow  the  brook  jumped  and  tumbled  down  a 
pile  of  rocks  ten  feet  high,  and  there  Mr.  Ruth- 
ven  used  to  bathe,  under  the  fall,  but  it  was  too 
great  a  rush  for  the  children.  So  he  had  some 
boards  brought  down  from  the  sawmill,  and  a  little 
shed  made  over  one  bend  of  the  brook,  just 
where  a  great  maple  grew  and  flung  its  pretty 
shadow  over  the  little  fish.  This  was  only  just 
finished,  and  on  that  very  day  when  Chryssa  and 
Fulvi  began  to  hunt  for  feathers,  they  were  to 
bathe    in  th3  brook  for  the  first  time. 


HARD     MAPLE.  167 

It  was  great  fun  !  —  all  the  more  that  they  felt 
a  little  afraid ;  and  very  laughing  and  excited 
they  ran  down  to  the  little  gate  and  crossed 
the  road  and  climbed  the  fence  like  two  squir- 
rels, while  Mrs.  Rutherford  and  Mrs.  Lee  came 
slowly  after  them  with  the  towels,  and  Sybil 
stood  and  watched  them  from  the  front  door. 
Sybil  was    always   rather   suspicious    of  frolics. 

The  little  bathing  house  cast  quite  a  shade 
upon  the  water,  and  the  fish  looked  really  black 
as  they  darted  to  and  fro ;  but  the  water  was 
bright  and  clear,  and  rippled  down  over  the 
shining  pebbles  with  a  very  sweet  sound.  The 
long  grass  at  the  edge  bent  over  and  wrent 
with  the  stream  as  far  as  it  could,  and  the 
flowers  waved  their  heads  softly  at  such  w7ild 
proceedings. 

Chryssa  and  Fulvi  certainly  did  feel  afraid 
at  first  to  venture  in  among  the  little  fish, 
though  the  water  was  so  clear  that  they  could 
see  every  stone  at  the  bottom ;  but  when  they 
were  once  in  they  forgot  everything  but  the 
fun.     Indeed   I     think    the    fish    were    frightened 


168  HARD     MAPLE. 

then,  and  rushed  away.  But  how  the  children 
splashed!  and  ran  up  and  down,  and  danced, 
and  jumped  about!  It  was  no  wonder  the  two 
ladies  laughed,  — but  they  soon  began  to  think 
they  should  never  get  the  children  out  again  — 
the  brook  was  so  fascinating.  And  when  they 
did  come  out  they  were  not  a  bit  tired,  but 
with  wet  hair  and  happy  faces,  took  a  race  to 
the    house    to   see  who   should   get   there   first. 


HAKU     11APLE.  169 


CHAPTER   XV. 

SAD  accident  happened  one  day  —  for 
Chryssa  —  running  about  the  garret  a  little 
too  heedlessly;  beheaded  her  doll !  —  by  setting 
her  little  foot  right  down  upon  that  young  lady's 
neck  —  which  of  course  broke  at  once.  Because 
it  is  a  well  known  fact,  that  dolls  were  not  made 
to  be  stepped  on,  any  more  than  people.  So 
there  lay  the  doll's  head  —  and  her  body  ! 

Of  course,  that  being  the  state  of  the  case,  the 
doll  made  no  remark,  —  neither  did  the  children 
at  first,  but  looked  at  each  other  in  astonishment. 
But  though  they  both  felt  dismayed  and  sorry,  yet 
the  whole  thing  seemed  so  funny  that  they  pres- 
ently began  to  laugh ;  and  perhaps  the  doll  had 
never  given  them  such  a  laugh,  even  in  her  most 
flourishing  state  of  health  and  spirits.  The  next 
thing  was,  to  repair  damages.  Not  the  damage 
done  to  the  doll,  for  clearly  that  could  not  be  re- 
paired, but  it  was  needful  at  once  to  find  another 
doll  of  some  sort 


170  HARD    MAPLE. 

Down  stairs  went  the  children  and  began  the 
search. 

Now  there  were  no  more  dolls  in  the  house. 
Miss  Flint  said  she  would  make  them  a  new  doll, 
if  they  would  wait  till  she  had  time ;  but  the 
children  did  not  want  to  wait  at  all,  and  knew 
very  well  that  Miss  Flint's  time  was  as  hard  to 
find  as  a  doll,  so  they  made  one  up  for  themselves. 
Or  indeed  they  called  it  a  baby  —  not  a  doll, — 
it  was  much  too  large  and  dignified  for  that  name. 
They  took  a  small  pillow,  and  tied  a  string  round 
it  near  one  end  to  make  the  head  —  a  very  square 
cornered  head  it  was ;  then  they  tied  on  a  little 
frock  that  belonged  to  Mrs.  Lee's  baby,  and 
over  that  one  of  her  aprons ;  and  then  pulled  on 
a  cap  over  the  square  corners  of  the  head  to 
keep  them  down.  It  must  be  said  that  this  new 
baby  had  not  very  marked  features,  and  that  the 
white  pillow  case  gave  her  a  decidedly  pale  com- 
plexion ;  but  then  she  had  on  a  real  dress,  and 
her  head  could  not  be  broken  —  which  made  some 
amends  for  its  want  of  shape.  Moreover,  as  there 
were   plenty   of  pillows    and   little   dresses,   Fulvi 


HARD     MAPLE.  171 

made  up  a  "baby"  for  herself' — so  they  each  had 
one.  But  this  made  the  garret  deserted  for  a 
while,  —  of  course  such  very  real  babies  could 
only  be  played  with  down  stairs,  in  real  bedrooms, 
and  put  to  sleep  in  real  beds.  Fulvi's  little  cra- 
dle would  have  held  only  one  foot  of  such  a  doll 
—  if  the  doll  had  had  any  feet. 

By  the  time  this  great  business  was  settled 
and  disposed  of,  dinner  came,  and  after  that  it 
was  quite  needful  to  go  out  and  see  how  the  sun 
shone. 

"  Let's  take  my  tin  things,"  said  Chryssa,  "  and 
keep  house  ! "  —  with  which  bright  idea  the  chil- 
dren were  both  much  elated. 

Down  near  the  barn,  where  some  young  trees 
grew  together  in  a  bushy  sort  of  way,  was  a 
pile  of  boards ;  the  shadow  of  the  young  trees 
falling  over  it  like  a  curtain,  and  a  fresh  grass 
carpet  all  around.  Here  Chryssa  and  Fulvi  be- 
gan to  keep  house,  out  of  doors,  —  to  the  very  top 
board  they  carried  the  box  of  tin  things,  a  piece 
of  bread,  a  mug  of  water,  an  apple  or  two,  and 
a  great   variety   of  raw   beans.      Here   they   laid 


172  HARD     MAPLE. 

little  sticks,  making  a  splendid  fire  that  was 
never  lit;  here  they  filled  little  tin  kettles  with 
water,  and  hung  them  over  the  fire  which  did  not 
burn ;  and  put  bits  of  real  bread  upon  tin  and 
leaf  dishes.  Here  they  talked  away  countless  and 
uncounted  minutes,  telling  their  housekeeping  ex- 
perience, laying  plans  for  improvement,  and  ex- 
changing (confidential)  remarks  as  to  the  want  of 
excellence  in  raw  beans. 

"It's  strange  they  don't  taste  good,"  said  Fulvi, 
—  "  they  look  pretty." 

"  If  we  could  only  make  a  fire  and  cook  'em  re- 
ally!" said  Chryssa,  splitting  the  skin  of  another 
bean  with  a  pin  point,  and  resolutely  trying  a  bit 
of  the  inside.  But  she  made  such  a  face  at  it  that 
both  the  young  ones  went  into  a  fit  of  laughter. 

"  I  think  it  tastes  worse  and  worse ! "  said 
Chryssa,  shaking  her  merry  head  about.  "  Do 
you  s'pose  we'll  ever  like  'em,  Fulvi  ?  —  when  we 
get  used  to  'em  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know ! "  said  Fulvi.  "  Do  you  think 
that  kettle  will  ever  boil,  Chryssa?" 

"I   guess  it's  boiled  as  much  as  it  ever  will," 


HARD     MAPLE.  173 

said  Chryssa,  lifting  off  the  heavy  tin  kettle, 
which  was  full  an  inch  deep.  "  But  I  don't 
think  the  mutton's  very  good,  Mrs.  Green  — 
shall  I  give  you  a  piece  of  bread  ? " 

How  the  yellow  birds  started  on  the  thistle 
stalks !  how  the  phoebe  looked  out  from  under 
the  bi'idge !  —  such  a  laugh  that  pile  of  boards 
had  not  heard  for  one  while. 

"  "Why  what  makes  you  call  me  Mrs.  Green  ? " 
said  Fulvi  when  she  could  speak. 

"  O  people  always  call  people  things,"  said 
Chryssa  —  "  when  they  come  to  dinner.  I'm  Mrs. 
Brown." 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Brown ! "  said  Fulvi,  laying 
hold  of  Chryssa's  hand,  "how  delighted  I  am  to 
see  you  ! " 

"  And  so  am  I  to  see  you,"  said  Chryssa 
bowing  politely.  "  How's  Mr.  Green  and  all  the 
children  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  where  Mr.  Green  is,"  said 
Fulvi.     "  The  children  are  all  at  home  in  bed." 

u  "Well  so  are  mine,"  said  Chryssa,  "  only  one 
of  'em  had  her  head  broke  off  this  morning." 


174  HARD     MAPLE. 

"  Why  you  astonish  me  ! "  said  Fulvi.  "  What 
did  you  do?" 

"  I  didn't  do  any  thing,"  said  Chryssa.  "  I 
couldn't,  you  know.  Fulvi  —  let's  get  some  birch 
bark  and  make  little  boxes  and  baskets  to  put 
in  our  store  !  " 

Down  they  jumped  from  the  pile  of  boards, 
and  away  into  the  chip  yard,  looking  for  the  pieces 
of  bark  which  Aaron  scattered  about  when  he 
was  cutting  wood.  There  were  a  great  many  of 
them,  little  and  big,  —  sweet-smelling  things,  all 
brown  on  one  side  and  brown-spotted  white  on 
the  other,  and  curled  up  like  a  roll  of  thin  paste- 
board. They  could  be  split  too,  into  thinner  and 
thinner  pieces,  and  were  so  soft  and  pliable  that 
they  could  be  cut  and  sewed  in  all  manner  of 
shapes.  The  great  difficulty  was  to  hide  the 
stitches,  and  now  and  then  one  would  tear  out, 
but  still  the  new  manufactures  were  very  inter- 
esting. 

It  was  a  cool  evening,  and  Miss  Flint  made  up 
a  great  wood  fire  which  shone  round  the  old  kitchen 
far    better   than    gas,  and    then    she    brought   out 


HARD      MAPLE.  175 

her  great  wheel  and  began  to  spin ;  the  wheel 
whirring  and  flying  round,  and  the  soft  white 
rolls  changing  to  fine  twisted  white  yarn,  with 
great  speed.  The  room  and  the  fire  and  the 
spinning  were  so  pleasant,  that  all  the  family 
came  together  to  enjoy  them ;  and  Chryssa  and 
Fulvi  sat  down  in  one  corner  of  the  hearth,  and 
worked  away  in  the  firelight,  making  birch  bark 
baskets. 

"  If  you  were  only  two  Indians,"  said  Sybil, 
"  then  you  could  embroider  your  things  with  por- 
cupine  quills." 

"  And  if  I  was  only  poor  and  sick,"  said  Mrs. 
Rutherford,  "  you  could  help  take  care  of  me." 

"  With  the  baskets  ?  "    said  Chryssa  looking  up. 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  a  story  of  what  a  little  girl 
might  do  ? "   said  her  aunt. 

"  O  yes,"  said  Chryssa.    "  What  was  her  name  ?  " 

Mrs.  Rutherford  smiled  and  began. 

"  Little  May  Hunt  lived  all  alone  with  her 
mother  and  her  little  brother  Tiny.  Tiny  was 
very  small,  and  could  do  nothing  but  run  about, 
and   eat  bread  and  milk,  and  tangle  Mrs.  Hunt's 


178  HARD      MAPLE. 

ball  of  yarn,  and  pull  off  May's  flowers.  For 
May  had  two  flowei*s —  a  ladyslipper  and  a  mari- 
gold—  growing  in  two  cracked  mugs.  The  house 
where  they  all  lived,  was  quite  out  of  the  vil- 
lage, at  one  end,  and  so  small  that  it  looked  like 
a  cast-off  room  from  some  other  house.  Every 
day  Mrs.  Hunt  went  down  into  the  village  to 
take  home  sewing  that  she  had  done,  or  to  get 
some  more ;  and  when  nobody  had  any  for  her 
she  knit  stockings  instead.  How  fast  her  needles 
did  fly!  whatever  she  was  about;  but  the  stock- 
ings were  not  for  May  nor  Tiny,  —  Mrs.  Hunt 
sold  them  all.  It  was  warm  weather  though,  so 
they  never  had  cold  feet;  but  May  thought  she 
should  like  to  see  Tiny  wear  little  white  stockings 
and  red  shoes,  like  a  little  boy  who  lived  in  the 
biggest  house  in  the  village  —  as  Tiny  lived  in 
the  smallest. 

"'How  much  do  red  shoes  cost,  mother?"  she 
said  one  day. 

" '  More  than  I  can  afford  to  give,'  said  her 
mother.  'And  Tiny  is  in  much  more  need  of  a 
straw  hat.'     And  Mrs.  Hunt  stroked  Tiny's   hair, 


H.UD      T1APLE.  177 

and  looked  at  his  face  which  was  getting  brown 
enough. 

"'I  wish  I  could  help  you,  mother.' 

" '  O  you  do  help  me,  a  great  deal,'  said  Mrs. 
Hunt  smiling  at  her.  'You  take  such  good  care 
of  Tiny.  And  ever  since  you  began  to  try  to  be 
good,  and  to  serve  God,  I  don't  feel  as  if  I  wanted 
any  more  help.' 

"  '  I  don't  do  much  ! '  said  May  shaking  her  head, 
and  winking  her  eyes  to  keep  the  tears  back. 
'Mother,  I  don't  think  Tiny  has  quite  enough 
milk.     That  little  tin  cup  don't  hold  much.' 

"  '  I  know  it,'  —  said  Mrs.  Hunt,  and  she  looked 
very  grave  for  a  minute.  '  But  I've  told  our 
Heavenly  Father  all  that  we  want,  May,  —  so  we 
need  not  feel  uneasy.' 

"'Mother,'  said  May  thoughtfully,  'that's  just 
what  puzzles  me.' 

"  '  "What  ? '    said  her  mother. 

"  Why  God  knew  before,  didn't  he  ?  —  and  now 
you've  told  him  again.' 

"'Yes,  he  knew  it  before,'  said  Mrs.  Hunt, 
'  but  he  chooses  still  to  have  his  children  tell  him 
12 


178  HARD     MAPLE. 

all  they  want.  And  whatever  is  best  for  them 
they  shall  have.' 

"  '  And  they  may  try  to  get  it,  too  ? '  said  May. 

"  '  Of  course  —  asking  God  to  guide  and  help 
them.' 

"  '  Mother,'  said  May,  '  if  /  could  make  things, 
Tiny  could  have  more  milk.  I  have  asked  God 
to  help  me,  for  a  good  while,  but  I  can't  think  of 
any  thing.     Do  you  think  God  isn't  willing?' 

"  Mrs.  Hunt  was  silent  a  minute,  for  it  was  not 
very  easy  to  speak. 

"  '  No,  May,'  she  said  softly,  '  I  don't  think  that. 
But  perhaps  he  is  teaching  you  and  me  patience 
—  so  we  must  try  and  learn.' 

" '  Yes  mother,'  said  May,  looking  thoughtfully 
at  a  warm  sunbeam  that  lay  on  the  floor.  '  Moth* 
er  !  who  makes  all  the  straw  hats  the  boy? 
wear  ? ' 

"  '  I  don't  know,'  said  Mrs.  Hunt,  — '  the  women 
make  them  in  some  towns,  and  the  girls.' 

"  '  Then  I'll  learn  ! '  said  May  resolutely.  '  I 
can  braid  three  now,  and  I  can  sew  the  braids 
together.     That  would  do  for  Tiny,  anyway.'" 


HARD      MAPLE.  179 

And  Chryssa  and  Fulvi  nodded  to  each  other, 
thinking  of  their  own  rolls  of  straw  braid. 

" '  But  May  —  where  will  you  get  straw  ? '  said 
Mrs.  Hunt. 

" l  Maybe  some  of  the  farmers'll  give  me  some, 
mother.  And  if  they  won't  I'll  take  some  of  that 
stiff  grass  that  grows  by  the  brook.     I'll  try  ! ' 

"  So  she  did.  She  tried  the  grass  first  of  all, 
for  she  could  have  that  without  asking;  but 
though  it  made  a  pretty  braid  it  was  not  very 
strong.  TLen  she  went  into  the  field  one  daj 
where  Farmer  Flax  was  at  work  with  his  men, 
and  asked  if  she  might  have  some  of  the  loose 
straws  that  were  left  scattered  about  the  field. 

"  Farmer  Flax  tied  up  the  bundle  of  grain  he 
had  in  his  hands,  and  then  he  looked  at  May. 

" '  Do  you  know  there's  oats  on  every  single 
straw  that  lies  round  ? '  he  said.  '  I  s'pose  you 
want  'em  to  feed  your  chickens.' 

" '  0  no  sir ! '  said  May  eagerly.  '  I  don't 
want  the  oats  at  all  —  only  the  straw.  I'll  bring 
a  scissors  and  cut  the  oats  off  and  leave  'em  here. 
I  want  the  straw  to  make  Tiny  a  hat.' 


180  HARD      MAPLE. 

"  '  Whew  ! '  said  Farmer  Flax,  — '  that's  a  wind 
I  don't  see  more'n  once  a  year !  Well  child,  why 
don't  you  buy  one  ? ' 

"'Mother  can't,  sir.' 

" '  Well  how'd  you  like  to  sell  one  ? '  said  the 
farmer  looking  at  her. 

"  '  0  dearly  ! '  said  May  —  *  if  I  could  make  it 
well  enough.' 

" '  I'll  tell  you  what  you'll  do,'  said  Farmer 
Flax.  '  You'll  come  here  and  pick  up  the  straws, 
and  make  'em  up  somehow  —  no  matter  just 
how,  and  you'll  let  me  have  the  hat,  and  Tiny 
can  wait.  What  does  he  want  one  for  ?  He 
can't  have  one  till  I've  had  six  —  d'ye  hear  ?  And 
you  needn't  cut  off  the  oats  —  take  'em  home  to 
your  chickens.  I  guess  my  pigs  won't  miss  'em. 
Now  child  —  don't  interrupt  me  any  more.' 

"  May  didn't  try  to  interrupt  the  farmer,  nor 
even  to  answer  him.  She  stood  still  with  her 
eyes  full  of  tears,  thinking  of  all  the  milk  the 
six  hats  would  buy  for  Tiny.  But  then  she  said 
very  softly, 

" '  We  haven't  got  any  chickens  sir,  so  I'd 
rather  leave   the  oats  for  th^  t*-~*  ' 


HARD     MAPLE.  181 

" '  All  a  mistake  ! '  said  Farmer  Flax  gathering 
up  the  grain.  '  No  chickens  ?  —  then  you  ought 
to  have  —  I'll  fetch  you  one  next  time  I  come 
your  way.  Now  May  Hunt  —  don't  give  us  a 
shower  in  harvest !  —  pick  up  your  straws,  and 
run  home  and  tell  Tiny  he  can't  have  a  hat  this 
great  while.' 

"  Which  May  did  —  the  first  part  of  it,  but 
she  only  told  Tiny  that  some  time  he  should  have 
a  hat.  And  how  she  worked  at  her  braiding  and 
sewing !  and  how  rough  the  first  hat  was,  and 
how  much  better  the  second,  and  how  good  the 
milk  that  she  bought  for  Tiny  !  And  as  for  the 
little  cock  and  hen  that  Farmer  Flax  gave  her, 
there  probably  never  were  seen  such  chickens, 
before  nor  since. 

" '  I  think,  mother,'  she  said,  when  the  sixth 
hat  was  finished  and  she  had  orders  to  make  six 
more,  '  I  think  if  God  meant  to  teach  me  patience, 
he  meant  to  teach  me  perseverance  too.' " 

"  Aunt  Esther  ! "  said  Chryssa  the  moment  Mrs. 
Rutherford  stopped  speaking,  "  do  you  s'pose  I 
could  do  that  if  you  were  poor  ? " 


182  HARD      MAPLE. 

"  I  have  no  doubt  of  it,"  said  her  aunt  smiling. 

Chryssa  made  no  further  remark,  but  for  some 
days  thereafter  she  worked  at  her  roll  of  straw 
braid,  as  if  she  thought  Mrs.  Rutherford  in  im- 
mediate danger  of  losing  all  other  means  of  sup- 
port but  Chryssa's  own  little  fingers. 


HARD      MAPLE.  183 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

$fipJ|HE  last  day  of  Fulvi's  stay  at  Hard  Maple 
J*e  was  a  busy  one.  There  were  apples  to  get 
from  the  little  orchard,  there  were  the  threshers 
to  see  in  the  big  barn,  there  was  a  long  drive  to 
take  in  the  afternoon.  Miss  Flint  said  if  they 
chose  to  take  their  dinner  into  the  orchard 
with  them,  she  would  give  them  what  she  called 
"  a  real  good  tea ; "  and  of  course  the  children 
thought  dinner  under  the  apple  trees  would  be 
better  than  anywhere  else.  But  first  Mr.  Ruth- 
ven  took  them  down  to  the  barn. 

The  lower  barn  floor  was  heaped  up  on  either 
side  with  sheaves  of  wheat  and  rye,  but  in  the 
middle  it  was  quite  clear  and  one  of  the  men  was 
even  sweeping  it.  A  great  wooden  shovel  lay  on 
the  floor,  and  a  pitchfork,  and  the  wooden  flails 
leaned  up  against  one  of  the  timbers.  At  the 
further  end  stood  a  queer  looking  red  machine, 
but  what  it  could  do  —  or  was  going  to  do  —  the 
children  did  not  know. 


184  HARD     MAPLE. 

The  man  put  down  his  broom,  and  Aaron  threw 
down  some  sheaves  of  wheat  on  the  floor,  spread- 
ing them  out  from  side  to  side,  and  then  both 
took  up  the  flails.  The  flails  were  more  like 
great  wooden  whips  than  anything,  the  lash  be- 
ing a  thick  oak  stick  like  the  handle.  Then  flour- 
ishing the  flail  over  his  head,  Aaron  brought  the 
wooden  lash  down  upon  the  wheat  sheaves  till 
the  barn  floor  rang  again,  and  the  minute  he 
raised  it  the  other  man  brought  down  his;  and 
so  they  went  on,  beating  out  the  grain.  Then 
Aaron  took  the  pitchfork  and  pulled  away  the 
loose  straw,  and  under  it  was  the  wheat,  lying 
thick  on  the  floor.  But  there  was  a  good  deal 
of  chaff  mixed  with  it  yet,  so  the  men  rolled  up 
the  red  machine,  and  Mr.  Ruthven  said  it  was 
called  a  fanning  mill,  and  was  used  to  clear  and 
blow  away  all  the  chaff  so  as  to  have  the  wheat 
quite  clean.  Then  the  wooden  shovel  came  into 
play.  Aaron  took  up  a  shovelful  of  wheat  and 
poured  it  into  the  top  of  the  fanning  mill,  and  the 
other  man  turned  the  handle  at  one  side ;  and  the 
mill   shook   the   wheat   about,  and   fanned   it,  and 


HARD     MAPLE.  185 

blew  off  the  chaff,  and  poured  the  clean  grain 
down  in  a  great  heap  on  the  floor.  Then  when 
it  was  all  winnowed  —  as  Mr.  Ruthven  called  it, 
Aaron  threw  down  more  sheaves  on  the  floor 
and  the  threshing  began  again.  Meantime  the 
chickens  gathered  about  the  great  wide  open 
door,  picking  up  the  grains  of  wheat  that  lay  scat- 
tered about,  some  swept  off  the  floor  and  some 
dashed  out  by  the  busy  flails. 

And  now  it  was  time  to  go  to  the  little  orchard. 
T:u  day  was  most  fair  and  cool,  the  sky  bright 
blue,  and  the  sweet  fall  wind  told  all  sorts  of  sweet 
stories  about  grain  fields  and  orchards  and  ripen- 
ing nuts.  Miss  Flint  packed  up  a  fine  dinner 
basket  and  prepared  a  tin  pail  of  milk,  and  then 
all  the  children  set  forth,  each  with  some  partic- 
ular little  basket  for  apples.  Fast  enough  they 
went  on  through  the  meadow,  while  Mrs.  Lee  and 
Mrs.  Rutherford  and  Miss  Flint  herself  came 
after. 

Down  the  hill  by  the  barn,  where  the  flails 
were  beating  time  and  wheat ;  through  the  barn 
meadow,  and  across  the  meadow  stream,  and  under 


186  HARD      MAPLE. 

the  great  butternut  trees  ;  through  the  little  mead- 
ow, so  gay  with  yarrow  and  golden  rod,  and  the  long 
meadow  where  egg  plums  grew  by  the  fence,  and 
then  into  the  little  orchard.  Not  all  the  apples 
were  ripe  yet;  but  to  one  tree  Miss  Flint  went 
to  gather  for  pies,  and  to  another  and  another 
the  ladies  led  the  children.  Some  apples  lay  on 
the  ground,  bedded  in  the  grass,  their  red  cheeks 
sunburnt  and  glowing;  and  some  hung  drooping 
down  from  the  branches,  almost  or  quite  within 
reach;  but  the  most  were  far  up  in  the  tree,  and 
could  only  be  shaken  or  knocked  down.  How  hard 
the  children  tried  to  shake  the  tree !  clasping  the 
rough  bark  with  their  little  fingers,  —  how  good- 
naturedly  the  old  apple  trees  let  them  try  —  and 
did  not  even  shake  their  heads !  And  how  when 
Miss  Flint  took  hold,  the  apples  came  hurrying 
down  in  a  hard  shower  —  as  if  they  felt  the  neces- 
sity of  their  being  made  up  into  pies  at  once ! 
But  when  all  the  baskets  were  full,  the  next  thing 
was  to  attend  to  the  pies  that  were  made.  For 
there  was  plenty  of  apple  pie  in  the  dinner  basket, 
and    other    pie    made    of    dried    raspberries,   and 


J 


Hard  Maple 


p.  187 


HARD      MAPLE.  187 

baked  in  a  straight  edged  tin  pan  with  almost  no 
crust.  And  there  was  cheese,  and  cookies,  and 
cold  meat  and  bread ;  and  there  was  sweet  yellow 
milk  in  the  tin  pail,  and  excellent  appetites  every 
where !  —  even  among  the  little  brown  sparrows 
that  came  and  picked  up  the  crumbs.  About  one 
of  these  Mrs.  Rutherford  told  the  children  a  story. 

Little  Song  Sparrow  had  under  her  breast 
Five  little  eggs  ia  a  woven  nest. 
The  nest  was  woven  of  twigs  and  hay, 
Some  fibrous  roots  that  came  in  her  way, 
A  long  black  hair  from  a  horse's  tail, 
A  thread  of  yarn  from  a  garden  pale; 
While  feathers  within  and  moss  without, 
Kept  every  breath  of  tho  cold  air  out. 

The  five  little  eggs  looked  very  well, 
For  each  little  egg  had  a  speckled  shell ; 
The  ground  was  white  and  the  speckles  brown ; 
And  when  the  little  Song  Sparrow  came  down 
From  high  in  air  to  sit  on  the  eggs, 
Tucking  them  under  her  slender  legs, — 
She  thought  to  herself,  "There  cannot  be 
Five  prettier  eggs  than  belong  to  me  1 " 

So  there  she  staid  for  a  week  or  two, 
Warm  with  the  sun  and  wet  with  the  dew; 
Tired  of  living  at  home  no  doubt, 
Yet  not  for  a  crumb  would  she  venture  out. 


188  HARD      MAPLE. 

Her  mate  meanwhile,  went  back  and  forth, 
Seeking  provisions  south  and  north, 
And  sometimes  resting  his  busy  wing, 
To  let  Mrs.  Sparrow  hear  him  sing. 

At  length  one  day,  when  the  sky  was  fair, 
And  flowers  with  perfume  filled  the  air; 
"When  the  breeze  blew  softly  to  and  fro, 
And  the  birds  skimmed  over,  high  and  low; 
Mrs.  Song  Sparrow  felt  under  her  wings 
Five  little  moving,  hungry  things; 
For  every  shell  was  broken  in  two, 
And  five  little  sparrows  had  all  come  through  I 

What  searching  was  then  for  worm  and  seed, 
With  five  little  open  mouths  to  feed! 
Five  little  mouths,  that  would  eat  and  cry 
From  early  dawn  till  the  evening  sky. 
No  wonder  Mrs.  Song  Sparrow  looked  out 
For  crumbs  the  children  scattered  about,  — 
And  nobody  ought  to  call  it  theft 
If  she  took  the  meal  the  chickens  had  left. 

Perhaps  she  was  tired,  and  sleepy  too, 
When  the  sun  went  down,  and  the  drops  of  dew 
Lay  like  jewels  on  grass  and  tree  — 
Bright  as  her  own  little  eyes  could  be. 
But  when  at  last  she  had  gone  to  rest, 
Hiding  her  young  ones  under  her  breast; 
The  wind  might  blow  or  the  rain  might  fall, 
The  nestful  of  birds  6lept  on  through  all. 

The  five  little  sparrows  grew  and  grew, 
And  soon  little  feathers  came  into  view, 


HARD     MAPLE.  189 

All  over  their  heads  and  backs  and  wings, 
So  they  were  no  longer  downy  things. 
Their  appetites  grew;  and  so  did  they  — 
Stronger  and  stronger  from  day  to  day; 
And  much  they  wanted  to  quit  the  tree, 
And  see  what  else  in  the  world  might  be. 

It  seemed  too  bad  to  be  shut  up  there, 

While  other  birds  winged  through  the  air, — 

So  green  was  the  earth,  so  blue  the  sky, 

That  each  one  felt  as  if  he  should  fly  I 

How  they  twittered  and  chirped  and  looked  aboutl — 

Their  little  soft  heads  just  peeping  out, — 

Their  little  bright  eyes  peered  over  the  nest, 

And  not  a  sparrow  could  be  at  rest. 

But  when  their  mother  bid  them  try  — 

Cheering  them  on  with  her  soft  glad  eye; 

Fluttering  on  before  them,  to  show 

The  very  way  that  a  sparrow  should  go; 

Chirping  herself  in  a  sweet  low  tone, 

That  they  might  not  think  they  were  left  alone. 

Who  knows  with  what  joy  and  fear  that  day, 

The  five  little  sparrows  flew  away  ! 

"But  what  were  they  afraid  of?"  said  Chryssa, 
•who  had  been  softly  taking  the  crumbs  from  her 
apron  and  throwing  them  into  the  grass  for  a  real 
little  song  sparrow. 

"  They  had  never  used  their  wings  before." 
"Well  I  should  think   it  might  have  felt  good 


190  HARD    MAPLE. 

—  after  being  shut  up  in  a  nest  so  long,"  *aid 
Chryssa.  "I  wonder  what  makes  the  old  cat 
watch  the  birds  so?     I  wish  she  wouldn't." 

But   as   that,   according   to    Sybil,  "couldn't  be 
helped,"  the  children  jumped  up  and  ran  races  in"* 
the  orchard,  and  picked  flowers,  and  made  a  wreath 
for   the  baby's  little  bonnet,  after  which   they  all 
went  home. 

The  ride  in  the  afternoon  was  beautiful.  To 
be  sure,  they  were  stowed  pretty  close  in  the 
wagon,  but  who  minded  that?  —  not  Chryssa  and 
Fulvi ;  who  were  as  full  of  glee  as  any  little  song 
sparrow  that  ever  wore  a  feather  coat.  Some- 
times they  looked  out  at  the  woods  and  flowers 
and  fences,  sometimes  putting  their  heads  together 
they  talked  mysterious  things  about  the  great 
pillow  dolls  at  home.  Then  in  the  trees  by  the 
roadside  were  frost  grapes  —  the  vines  twisting 
and  twining  about,  showing  their  yellow  leaves 
here  and  there,  while  the  bunches  of  little  purple 
grapes  hung  thick  and  clustering.  Then  the  wagon 
stopped  and  the  whole  party  got  out,  —  the  chil- 
dren to  run  races  on  the  shady  road,  and  pick  up 


HARD     MAPLE.  191 

acorns  and  gather  flowers  ;  the  two  ladies  to  pick 
frost  grapes ;  but  as  these  were  decided  to  be  "  not 
good  for  children,"  the  young  ones  contented  them- 
selves with  looking  at  the  pretty  fruit,  and  won- 
dering how  it  could  be  bad  for  them,  and  yet  so 
good  for  Mrs.  Lee  and  Mrs.  Rutherford !  But 
after  all  acorns  and  snail  shells  were  better  —  if 
they  could  have  but  the  one,  and  Miss  Flint's 
"real  good  tea"  made  amends  for  every  thing. 

The  next  day  Mrs.  Lee  and  Fulvi  and  the 
baby  went  away,  and  Chryssa  was  left  to  amuse 
herself  once  more.  It  was  a  sad  thing  to  undress 
the  pillow  dolls,  and  see  their  clothes  packed 
up  for  the  journey.  Chryssa  knew  she  should 
not  want  to  play  with  them  all  by  herself,  so  it 
made  less  matter ;  but  she  was  sorry  to  have  Fulvi 
go,  and  the  two  wandered  about  together  all  the 
morning, —  picking  up  the  last  feathers  and  birch 
bark,  and  storing  them  away  till  "  next  time." 
And  about  midday  the  stage  came,  and  they  all 
drove  off. 

Chryssa  felt  very  lonely  then.     She  went  wan- 
dering  about  to  all  the  old  places,  but  they  were 


192  HARD      MAPLE. 

sorrowful  company.  A  stray  feather  lay  here 
and  there  round  the  barnyard,  but  she  did  not 
want  to  pick  them  up  ;  and  though  the  pennyroyal 
on  the  hill  was  just  as  sweet  as  ever,  she  did  not 
gather  a  single  sprig.  Down  in  the  barn  meadow 
was  the  bed  of  a  brook,  which  early  in  the  spring 
was  quite  full  of  water  but  now  was  dry,  and  there 
was  only  a  little  pool  now  and  then.  Across  from 
side  to  side  at  one  of  the  deep  places  was  a  little 
plank  bridge,  and  here  Chryssa  and  Fulvi  used 
to  run  back  and  forth  till  they  were  tired,  but 
Chryssa  only  stood  still  and  looked  at  it  now. — 
she  did  not  even  jump  across  once.  Then  she 
went  back  to  the  barn,  and  walked  about  under 
the  sheds  and  outhouses ;  and  the  old  bulfrog  who 
lived  in  the  barnyard  while  the  brook  was  dry, 
sat  up  in  one  corner  as  usual,  —  an  immense  green 
fellow,  with  shining  body  and  legs  and  great  staring 
eyes.  How  he  stared  at  Chryssa  now  —  and  then 
said  "  Ca-chunk  ! "  "Which  might  mean  several 
things  —  but  Chryssa  never  answered  a  word.  She 
and  Fulvi  had  talked  to  him  a  great  deal,  other 
days,  but  now  she  did  not  want  to  speak.     As  a 


HAKD     JIAPJ.E.  193 

last  means  of  consolation,  Chryssa  went  back  to 
the  house  and  got  the  old  cat,  and  with  puss  in 
her  lap  and  all  the  kittens  but  one  running  over 
her,  Chryssa  felt  comforted.  But  the  grey  kitten 
would  not  come,  and  sat  under  a  gooseberry  bush 
just  as  wild  as  ever. 
13 


194  HARD    MAPLE. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

HRYSSA,"  said  Mrs.  Rutherford  one  morn- 
ing, "  how  would  you  like  to  go  to  the 
6ewing  society  with  Miss  Flint  this  afternoon  ? " 

"  Why  I  should  like  it  very  much,"  said  Chryssa 
with  a  grave  face ;  "  but  you  know,  Aunt  Esther, 
I  can't  sew  very  fast." 

"I  don't  think  they  will  expect  you  to  do 
much,"  said  Mrs.  Rutherford  smiling.  "  Miss 
Flint  says  you  may  go  and  look  on." 

"  But  mayn't  I  have  some  work  too  ? "  said 
Chryssa.  "  Because  it  wouldn't  be  much  use  for 
me  to  go  if  I  didn't  sew." 

"  O  yes,  you  may  have  some  work,"  said  her 
aunt.  "  I  dare  say  the  ladies  down  there  will  give 
you  a  pincushion  to  make,  or  a  little  bag,  and 
you  can  take  your  thimble  in  your  pocket.  I 
mean  to  let  you  ride  down." 

"In  the  wagon?"  said  Chryssa;  —  "is  grandpa 
going?" 


HARD      MAPLE.  195 

"  No,  not  in  the  wagon ;  I'm  going  to  let  you 
ride  down  on  horseback." 

"  On  horseback  !  "  cried  Chiyssa.  "  But  Aunt 
Esther,  I  never  was  on  a  horse." 

"  You  won't  be  afraid,  will  you  ? "  said  Mrs. 
Rutherford  smiling.  "Miss  Flint  will  walk  by 
your    side." 

"  Why  couldn't  I  walk  too  ? "    said  Chryssa. 

"It's  too  far." 

"O  Chryssa!"  said  Sybil,  "I  wouldn't  be  afraid 
if  I  were  you." 

"  Weil  you're  older  than  I  am,"  said  Chryssa. 
"  But  I'm  not  afraid  —  I  mean  I  don't  want  to 
be."  And  when  she  had  thought  about  it  a  little 
more,  Chryssa  determined  that  she  wouldn't  be. 

And  she  held  to  her  determination  very  brave- 
ly. Yet  I  must  confess,  that  when  she  heard  Mr. 
Euthven  tell  Aaron  to  take  the  bridle  and  a  pan 
of  salt,  and  go  to  the  pasture  and  catch  the  old 
brown  horse ;  and  when  she  saw  Aaron  actually 
walking  off  with  the  bridle  on  his  arm ;  then 
Chryssa  did  feel  her  heart  beat  a  little  faster  than 
was  quite   pleasant.     But  if  she  had  been  fright- 


196  HARD      MAPLE. 

ened  to  death  she  would  not  have  given  up  then; 
for  when  Chryssa  once  made  up  her  mind  to  do 
a  thing,  that  thing  was  always  done. 

It  was  a  little  help  to  her  mind  and  her  heart 
too,  that  she  had  to  go  up  stairs  and  get  dressed ; 
and  the  new  little  shoes,  and  white  stockings  and 
white  frock,  had  quite  a  quieting  effect.  Then 
Chryssa  felt  quite  important  as  she  tied  up  her 
thimble  in  the  corner  of  her  handkerchief  (lest 
the  old  horse  should  trot  it  out  of  her  pocket)  ; 
and  moreover  —  she  did  once  in  a  while  think 
to  herself,  "  Perhaps  Aaron  won't  find  the  old 
horse  in   time  !  " 

But  just  as  Mrs.  Rutherford  was  tying  a  dark 
blue  sash  x'ound  the  little  belt  of  the  white  frock, 
Sybil  (who  was  watching  at  the  window)  cried 
out, 

"  Here  comes  Aaron  and  the  old  horse !  — 
you'll  have  to  go,  Chryssie  !  " 

"  Well "  —  said  Chryssa,  wishing  very  much  that 
her  heart  wouldn't  jump  about  so,  —  "I'm  almost 
ready ; "  and  when  her  sash  was  tied  she  put  on 
her  little  white  sunbonnet  and  followed  Mrs. 
Rutherford  down  stairs. 


HARD      MAPLE. 


197 


The  old  horse  stood  at  the  little  chip-yard  gate, 
tied  fast  to  a  plum  tree,  and  Aaron  was  buckling 
on  the  sidesaddle  under  Miss  Flint's  directions. 
Miss  Flint  was  all  ready  herself,  and  meant  to 
have  the  old  horse  all  ready  in  no  time. 

"  O  you'll  want  a  whip,  Chryssie,"  said  Sybil. 

"No  I  don't  think  I  shall,"  said  Chryssa. 


But  Mrs.  Rutherford  said  she  had  better  have 
one,  and  Mr.  Rutherford  went  down  into  the 
meadow    and    cut    a    long    slender    bit    of   Indian 


198  HARD     MAPLE. 

willow,  and  twisted  one  end  of  it  into  a  little 
ring,  so  that  Chiyssa  could  hold  it  nicely  in  her 
hand.  Then  he  took  the  bridle  and  led  the  old 
horse  close  to  the  gi*eat  horseblock,  and  Mrs. 
Rutherford  lifted  Chryssa  up  and  set  her  fairly  in 
the  saddle.  Chryssa  felt  as  if  she  were  up  on 
top  of  the  house !  —  she  could  hardly  draw  her 
breath  for  a  minute.  And  when  the  old  horse 
shook  off  a  fly  that  was  on  his  nose,  and  tossed 
his  mane,  and  snorted, —  Chryssa  didn't  know  but 
he  meant  to  toss  her  up  into  the  great  apple 
tree  that  grew  in  the  chip  yard. 

But  Mrs.  Rutherford  put  the  bridle  into  one 
hand,  and  the  little  willow  whip  in  the  other, 
and  Sybil  charged  her  not  to  let  the  horse  run 
away ;  and  her  uncle  took  hold  of  the  bridle  and 
said  he  would  lead  her  down  the  hill,  while 
Aaron  ran  before  to  open  the  gate.  Then  the 
old   horse  began    to    move. 

O  how  strange  it  felt !  —  his  great  shoulders 
went  up  and  down  and  sideways,  and  it  seemed 
as  if  her  little  shoulders  had  to  do  the  same, 
—  as   if    she    was     twisting     about    in     every   di- 


HARD      MAPLE.  199 

rection ;  and  when  they  reached  the  gate,  and 
Mr.  Rutherford  smiled  and  let  go  the  bridle, 
and  the  old  horse  stepped  gravely  out  into  the 
road, —  Chryssa  could  hardly  have  felt  further 
from  home  if  she   had   been   up   in   a   balloon. 

"  They're  all  looking  after  you,  Chryssa,"  said 
Miss  Flint  as  she  came  up  alongside  of  the  old 
horse.     "  Look  round   at  'em." 

"  I'm  afraid  to  —  I  can't  turn  round,"  said 
Chryssa. 

"  Why  yes  you  can  !  "  said  Miss  Flint,  —  "  I'll 
take   care   you    don't   fall    off." 

And  very  slowly  and  carefully  Chryssa  turned 
her  head,  and  saw  all  the  dear  people  in  front 
of  the  house  under  the  old  trees.  There  were 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Rutherford,  there  was  Sybil  wav- 
ing her  handkerchief,  there  was  old  Mr.  Ruth- 
ven  on  the  steps,  —  Chryssa  could  see  his  white 
hair  quite  distinctly.  She  heaved  a  little  bit  of 
a  sigh  as  she  saw  them  all,  but  then  turned 
her  head  round  in  a  hurry ;  for  the  old  horse 
began  to  walk  off  so  fast,  that  Chryssa  didn't 
know  but  he   was   intending   to   gallop. 


200  HARD      MAPLE. 

"  Give  him  a  switch  and  make  him  go, 
Chryssa,"  said   Miss    Flint. 

"  O  I  don't  want  to  go  any  faster,"  said 
Chryssa. 

"  Nonsense  ! "  said  Miss  Flint,  —  "  you're  not 
going  to  let  him  walk  all  the  way  down  there." 
And  she  caught  hold  of  the  bridle,  and  calling 
out,  "  Come !  Get  up ! "  she  began  to  run  and 
the  old  horse  began  to  trot ;  and  so  they  went 
on  for  a  few  minutes  till  Chryssa  was  almost 
shaken  to  pieces.  For  the  old  horse  had  not  a 
very  easy  trot,  and  his  little  rider  didn't  know 
how  to  keep  close  to  that  big  saddle,  and  so 
the  trotting  tossed  her  up  and  down  like  a 
ball. 

"  O  please  don't  make  him  trot  any  more ! " 
said  Chryssa,  when  Miss  Flint  stopped  running, 
— "  because    I    shall   fall    off." 

Miss  Flint  laughed,  and  said  she  would  catch 
her,  and  they  went  on  very  quietly  for  some 
time.  The  smooth  pretty  road  went  up  one 
little  hill  and  down  another,  first  by  a  patch  of 
dark    woods    and     then     by    a    beautiful     field     of 


HARD      MAPLE.  201 

young    grain,    and     then     by    a    meadow    where 
-u°ep    were    feeding. 

"  >,hose  sheep    are    those?"  said    Chryssa. 

"They're  )  ar  grandpa's,"  said  Miss  Flint, — 
"all  the  fields  clear  down  here  are  hisn, —  then 
comes    Squire    Phil's    laud." 

""What  does  grandpa  have  only  one  black 
sheep  and  all   the  rest  white,  for?"  said  Chryssa. 

"  There's  always  one  black  sheep  in  a  flock," 
said  Miss  Flint,  —  "you  don't  hardly  ever  see 
two.     Come,  old    horse,  get   up  !  " 

And  Miss  Flint  picked  up  a  little  stick  that 
lay  in  the  road,  and  gave  the  old  horse  such  a 
sharp  stroke  wuth  it,  that  he  set  off  at  a  pace 
the  like  of  which  Chryssa  had  never  felt  be- 
fore. She  seemed  to  be  flying  backwards  and 
forwards  through  the  air,  as  if  two  people  had 
been  playing  battledoor  with  her  —  only  she 
didn't  turn  round  in  the  air  every  time,  as  the 
shuttlecock  did;  but  just  as  she  was  wondering 
what  would  become  of  her  now  (for  she  couldn't 
see  Miss  Flint  at  her  side  any  longer)  the  old 
horse   stopped   of  his   own   accord,   and   began   to 


202  HARD      MAPLE. 

walk  again.  Then  Miss  Flint  came  up,  running 
and   laughing   and   out   of  breath. 

"  How   did  you   like   that  ? "   she   said. 

"What   was   he   doing?"   said    Chryssa. 

"Why  nothing  in  the  world  but  cantering," 
said   Miss    Flint. 

"Was  that  cantering?"  said  Chryssa,  feeling 
surprised  and  a  little  proud  too  —  to  have  had 
her   horse   canter   and   yet   not   fall   off! 

"To  be  sure,"  said  Miss  Flint.  "How  did 
you   like   it  ?  " 

"I  think  I  should  like  it  very  much  if  I 
didn't  jump  about  so,"  she  said.  "  But  I  like 
walking   better." 

"  So  do  I,"  —  said  Miss  Flint,  —  "  I  had  to 
run  like  a  kitten  to  catch  up  with  you.  I  shan't 
make   him  canter  much  —  you  needn't  be  afraid." 

But  Miss  Flint  did  make  him  trot,  —  every 
little  while  she  would  lay  hold  of  the  bridle 
and  give  the  old  horse  and  herself  a  good  run. 
And  as  Chryssa  got  more  used  to  it,  it  was 
almost    as    much    fun    to    her    as    to    Miss    Fliut. 

Now  they  began   to   pass   a  few  houses,  one  at 


HARD      MAPLE.  203 

a  time,  —  some  painted  white  and  some  yellow, 
and  some  not  painted  at  all.  There  were  gay- 
flowers  around  the  front  doors  and  in  the  front 
windows,  and  everybody  seemed  very  busy  mak- 
ing garden,  and  in  the  fields  there  were  men 
ploughing.  Once  or  twice  a  little  brook  ran 
across  the  road,  and  over  it  there  was  a  little 
wooden  bridge  upon  which  the  old  horse's  feet 
made  a  great  clatter;  but  Chryssa  was  the  only 
one  who  took  any  notice  of  it.  And  now  and  then 
a  flock  of  geese  or  an  old  turkey  cock  would 
come  out,  and  scream  and  gobble  as  if  they 
could  on  no  account  let  Chryssa  go  any  fur- 
ther. But  the  old  horse  walked  on  as  steadily 
as  if  there  had  been  no  such  thing  as  geese  or 
turkeys  in  the  world ;  and  Chryssa  thought  it 
was  quite  grand  to  be  up  there  on  his  back, 
out   of  their  way. 

"  Now  we're  almost  there,"  said  Miss  Flint. 
"  Here's  where  one  of  the  ladies  lives  that 
you'll  see  at  the  Society,  —  and  here's  another. 
And  there's  the  church,  and  there's  the  school- 
house  'way  down    beyond." 


204  HARD     MAPLE. 

The  first  house  had  a  very  gay  garden,  and 
on  the  steps  lay  a  great  tawny-coloured  dog, 
pretending  to  be  fast  asleep  ;  but  really  he  was 
watching  Chryssa,  to  see  what  she  and  the  old 
horse   meant   to   do. 

Then  came  the  church,  with  its  square  white 
tower,  and  green  blinds,  and  white  fence ;  and 
then  another  house  almost  hidden  by  trees,  and 
then   the   clergyman's   house. 

The  schoolhouse  was  very  white  and  square, 
with  no  trees  about  it ;  but  Miss  Flint  did  not 
stop  there.  On  she  went,  taking  hold  of  the 
bridle  whenever  the  road  branched  off,  to  make 
sure  the  old  horse  went  the  right  way,  till  they 
came  to  a  large,  long,  red  house,  with  a  tall 
pole  before  it,  and  a  sign  swinging  from  the 
pole.  A  sort  of  piazza  ran  round  the  second 
story  of  the  house,  and  there  were  several 
horses  and  wagons  standing  about,  and  several 
men   on   the   steps. 

"  Here  we  are,"  said  Miss  Flint,  and  she  led 
the  old  horse  up  to  the  horseblock,  and  took 
Chryssa   down.     And    Chryssa  could  hardly  stand 


HARD      MAPLE.  205 

ap   at   first  —  she   had   been   so  long   perched   up 
in    the    saddle. 

Then  Miss  Flint  called  one  of  the  men  to 
take  care  of  the  horse,  and  she  went  in  through 
the  open  door,  and  up  stairs  to  the  room  that 
had   the   piazza   round   it. 


206  HARD      MAPLE. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

|^f*|HE  room  where  the  sewing  society  met,  was 
vJL  the  largest  in  the  house  —  and  that  was  about 
all  that  could  be  said  in  its  favour.  It  was  Ion" 
enough,  and  had  windows  enough,  but  the  ceil- 
ing was  low  and  the  windows  had  no  blinds; 
and  the  walls  were  covered  with  purple-coloured 
paper,  spotted  all  over  with  yellow  spots  that 
looked  as  if  they  were  meant  for  the  rising  sun. 
Here  and  there  too,  the  damp  weather  —  not  ad- 
miring the  paper  —  had  rubbed  it  with  wet  fin- 
gers, and  made  long  dingy  streaks  upon  the  gay 
purple.  A  great  many  rush-bottomed  chairs  stood 
up  against  the  wall,  and  a  mahogany  table  with 
a  looking  glass  over  it  stood  between  two  of  the 
windows.  Opposite  this  table  was  another,  hold- 
ing a  square  glass  case  that  looked  like  a  sort  of 
little  milliner's  shop.  For  in  it  were  babies'  caps 
and  socks,  one  little  hood,  six  needlebooks,  nine 
bags,  five    aprons,  and    fourteen    pincushions ;    be- 


HARD     MAPLE.  207 

sides     emery     bags,    scissors     cases,     and      kettle 
holders. 

The  Society  sat  in  the  chairs  at  the  furthest 
end  of  the  room,  and  Chryssa  had  time  to  stop 
and  look  at  the  wonderful  glass  case,  and  to  ask 
Miss  Flint  what  it  was. 

"  Why  it's  Society  work,  child,"  said  Miss  Flint, 
—  "all  that  isn't  bought  they  put  hi  here."  And 
she  shewed  Chryssa  the  printed  card  at  the  top, 
which  said  that  all  the  articles  in  the  glass  case 
might  be  had  for  money. 

"01  know,"  said  Chryssa,  — "  there  was  just 
such  a  box  at  the  place  where  we  stopped  for  the 
horses   to   rest,  when  we  were  coming  here." 

Miss  Flint  then  walked  on  into  the  very  midst 
of  the  Society,  and  all  of  them  received  Chryssa 
very  kindly.  Some  of  the  younger  ones  kissed 
her,  and  others  looked  at  the  way  her  frock  was 
made  and  said  they  should  like  to  have  the  pat- 
tern —  it  would  be  so  pretty  to  make  for  the 
Society.  Then  Miss  Flint  said  Chryssa  must 
have  some  work  ;  and  one  of  the  ladies  cut  out 
a   square   piece   of  blue   satin  and  a  square  piece 


203  HARD      MAPLE. 

of  yellow  satin,  and   told    Chryssa  she  might  sew 
them  together  to  make  a  little  bag. 

So  Chryssa  sat  down  (or  rather  sat  up)  in  one 
of  the  rush  bottomed  chairs  by  the  window,  and 
took  out  her  thimble  and  began  to  sew.  It  was 
very  easy  to  put  the  needle  through  that  soft 
satin,  but  Chryssa  was  so  afraid  her  bag  would 
not  look  well  enough  to  hang  up  in  the  glass 
case,  that  she  sewed  as  slowly  and  carefully  as  if 
it  had  been  some  stiff  stuff  that  had  a  mind  to 
break  her  needle.  Now  and  then  the  ladies 
asked  her  a  question,  and  she  answered  "  Yes 
ma'am "  and  "  No  ma'am,"  in  the  gravest  way 
possible.  The  rest  of  the  time  she  listened  to 
the  talk  that  went  on  around  her,  but  she  couldn't 
understand  much  of  it.  Sometimes  one  of  the 
ladies  held  up  a  pretty  piece  of  work  to  be  ad- 
mired —  an  emery  bag  in  the  form  of  a  shoe,  or 
a  pen  wiper  made  like  an  old  woman  with  a  red 
cloak ;  and  then  Chryssa  stopped  sewing  and 
looked  too.  At  length  when  the  bag  was  sewed 
up  and  hemmed,  and  the  shir  run  at  the  top,  the 
lady  found    a    blue   ribband  and  a  yellow  ribband 


HARD     MAPLE.  209 

and  gave  them  to  Chryssa  to  run  in  the  bag  for 
strings.  And  the  great  piece  of  work  was  done  ! 
and  well  done  too,  the  ladies  said,  though  Chryssa 
herself  would  have  liked  the  bag  much  better 
if  it  had  been  all  blue  or  all  yellow.  However, 
people  could  not  look  at  both  sides  at  once,  that 
was  one  comfort. 

By  this  time  it  grew  late  in  the  afternoon,  and 
everybody  stopped  work ;  and  then  some  of  the 
younger  ones  began  to  mark  all  the  things  that 
had  been  finished  ;  that  is,  they  wrote  on  bits  of 
paper  the  prices  they  should  bring,  and  pinned 
the  papers  fast  to  all  the  different  articles. 

"  How  much  shall  this  be  ?  "  said  one  girl,  tak- 
ing  up    Chryssa's    bag.      "  Sixpence  ?  " 

"01  think  that  ought  to  bring  a  shilling," 
said  another.  So  a  bit  of  paper  marked  "  one 
shilling "  was  fastened  to  the  bag,  and  the  bag 
was  hung  up  in  the  glass  case. 

Then    the    Society    put    on    bonnets    and    went 

away,    and    one    lady    insisted    that    Chryssa    and 

Miss  Flint  should   go  home  with  her  to  tea ;    and 

they  walked  along,  leading  the    old    horse    behind 

14 


210  HARD     MAPLE. 

them,  till  they  came  to  the  house  where  the 
tawny  dog  lay  on  the  doorstep. 

How  many  pretty  things  were  there  to  Chrys- 
sa's  eyes  !  —  the  bright  flowers  in  the  garden,  — 
marigolds,  and  lady's  slipper,  and  prince's  feather, 
and  brilliant  bunches  of  red  cranberries ;  —  and 
within  the  house  there  was  such  a  sweet  smell  of 
apples.  But  most  of  all  was  she  attracted  by 
three  soft  white  balls,  as  large  as  a  big  apple, 
which  hung  over  the  looking  glass.  And  when 
she  was  told  that  they  were  thistle  balls,  and 
that  if  she  took  the  thistle  heads  when  the 
seed  was  ripe,  and  did  so  and  so  with  them, 
and  hung  them  up  to  dry,  she  could  have  just 
such  balls,  Chryssa  was  both  surprised  and  de- 
lighted. 

Then  they  had  tea,  with  all  sorts  of  nice 
things ;  and  an  old  lady  in  the  house  brought 
out  some  jelly  made  of  the  bright  red  cran- 
berries, and  made  her  taste  it  —  which  Chryssa 
thought  was  very  kind,  as  she  was  such  a  little 
girl.  And  then  Miss  Flint  said  it  was  time 
to   go. 


HARD      MAPLE.  211 

But  here  came  a  little  disappointment  to 
Chryssa,  for  her  friends  insisted  that  they  would 
take  her  home  in  the  wagon,  and  all  she  could 
say  was  to  no  purpose.  It  wouldn't  take  long  to 
get  the  wagon  ready,  they  said,  and  it  wasn't  a 
bit  of  trouble,  and  they  would  like  the  ride ;  — 
and  Chryssa  thought  it  would  not  be  very  po- 
lite to  say  that  she  would  much  rather  ride 
the  old  horse  than  to  go  with  them  in  the 
wagon.  So  quite  sorrowfully  and  very  silently 
she  let  them  wrap  her  up  in  a  warm  shawl 
and  put  her  in  the  wagon,  while  Miss  Flint 
mounted  the  old  horse ;  and  they  set  off  in  the 
starlight,  Chryssa  with  one  of  the  thistle  balls  to 
take   home. 

It  was  a  very  beautiful  night,  —  the  stars  shone 
bright  and  clear,  and  the  woods  looked  almost 
black  now  the  sun  was  gone.  And  Chryssa,  sit- 
ting there  on  a  buffalo  robe,  wrapped  up  in 
her  shawl,  would  have  enjoyed  it  very  much  if 
Miss  Flint  and  the  old  horse  had  not  been 
there  beside  her.  But  how  Miss  Flint  did  ride  ! 
—  she    cantered,  and   trotted,  and  cantered  again  ; 


212  nAKD     MAPLE. 

she  lingered  behind  the  wagon,  and  dashed  on 
before,  and  rode  quite  round  it ;  and  Chryssa 
could  not  help  thinking  all  the  time  how  much 
pleasanter  that  was,  than  even  being  slowly  jolted 
over  the  road  in  a  buffalo  robe. 

By  and  by  she  could  see  the  lights  shining 
from  the  windows  of  her  grandfather's  house, 
while  the  two  great  trees  made  one  dark  spot 
in  front ;  and  then  she  heard  the  dog  bark  — 
and  then  they  drove  up  to  the  door  and  got  out. 
Sybil  met  her  in  the  porch,  and  asked  all  manner 
of  questions  about  her  ride  and  the  Sewing  So- 
ciety, and  admired  the  thistle  ball,  and  then  she 
said  — 

"  Now  Chryssa,  guess  what  Uncle  Ruth  did  for 
us  after  you  went  away." 

"  Did  he  make  us  some  little  boats  ? "  said 
Chryssa. 

"  O  no  !  —  guess  again." 

Chryssa  guessed  and  guessed,  in  vain  ;  and 
then  Sybil  told  her  she  must  wait  till  morning 
and   she   should   see. 

"  And    so    you    enjoyed    your    ride,    Chryssa," 


H  A  H  D      MAPLE.  213 

said  Mrs.  Rutherford  when  the  children  were 
going  to  bed. 

"  0  yes  indeed  !  "  said  Chryssa.  "  At  least  I 
enjoyed  riding   down." 

"  And    didn't    you    enjoy    riding   up  ? " 

"Yes"— said  Chryssa,  — "a  little-  But  I'd 
rather   have   been   on    the   old   horse/ 

"  Why  didn't  you  say  so  then  ? "  Raid  Sybil, 
—  "I  would,   in    a   minute." 

"  They  didn't  ask  me  which  I'd  rather  do," 
said  Chryssa.  "I  s'pose  they  thought  I  must 
like  riding  with  them  best  And  I  didn't  like 
to   tell   'em   they  were   mistaken." 

"That's  right,  Chryssie,"  said  Mrs.  Rutherford 
smiling,  — "  always  take  care  of  other  people's 
feelings   first." 


214  HARD     MAPLE. 


CHAPTER     XIX. 

HEN  Chryssa  woke  up  next  morning 
she  could  not  think  for  a  minute  what 
it  was  that  she  wanted  to  see  or  do,  —  then 
she  remembered  what  Sybil  had  said  last  night, 
and  she  took  hold  of  her  shoulder  and  shook 
her,  and   called   out, 

"  Now  Sybil !  —  shew  me  what  Uncle  Ruth  did 
for    us   yesterday." 

"You're  in  a  great  hurry,"  said  Sybil  rub- 
bing  her  eyes. 

"  Well  shew  me,  won't  you  ? "  said  Chryssa. 
"  Because   I've    waited   a   great  while." 

"And  waited  patiently  too,"  said  Mrs.  Ruth- 
erford. 

"Well  you  may  shew  yourself,"  said  Sybil, 
—  "just  go  to  the  window  and  look  out.  No, 
no,  child  —  the  front  window,  —  look  under  the 
elm   tree." 

Chryssa  went  to   the  front  window  and  looked 


HARD      MAPLE.  215 

out,  under  the  elm  tree,  and  there  she  saw  a 
beautiful  swing!  Mr.  Kutherford  had  fastened 
two  strong  new  ropes  to  a  cross  branch  of  the 
tree,  far,  far  from  the  ground ;  and  had  put  in 
a  nice  board  seat,  which  was  wide  enough  for 
Sybil   and   Chryssa  to   sit  in   together. 

"  It  goes  beautifully ! "  said  Sybil.  "  Uncle 
Ruth  swung  me  there  last  night,  and  I  went 
ever  so  high.  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  the  birds 
thought  I  was  coming  up  into  the  tree  to  pay 
them   a   visit." 

"Well  you  can  swing  me  and  I  can  swing 
you,"   said    Chryssa. 

"Yes,"  said  Sybil,  "and  I  can  swing  myself 
a  little,  too:  the  seat  isn't  very  high  from  the 
ground." 

Chryssa  began  to  dress  herself  as  fast  as  she 
could,  to  go  down  and  try  it,  when  all  of  a 
sudden  there  was  a  sharp  loud  noise  under  the 
window. 

"0!"  cried  Sybil,  —  "that  was  a  gun!  I 
wonder  who  fired  it.  Don't  go  near  the  win- 
dow,   Chryssie — you   might   get   shot." 


216 


HARD     MAPLE. 


Chryssa  kept  away  from  the  window,  but  as 
soon  as  she  could  she  ran  down  stairs  to  the 
front  door.  There  stood  Mr.  Ruthven  leaning 
upon  his  gun,  and  looking  up  into  the  great 
tree. 

"  Why  grandpa !    was  that  you  ?  "  said  Chryssa. 

"  Yes  deary,"  he  answered  with  a  smile,  "  I 
shot   one    of  those   mischievous    squirrels." 

"  Shot  a  squirrel!  "  cried  Chryssa,  —  "you  didn't 
kill  it,  grandpa?" 

"Indeed  I  did,"  said  Mr.  Ruthven,  "and  the 
old   cat   has   got   it   for   her   breakfast." 

Chryssa  ran  round  the  house,  and  sure  enough, 
there  was  Mrs.  Tortoiseshell  eating  a  red  squir- 
rel. But  she  probably  thought  Chryssa  wanted 
it  for  her  breakfast,  for  she  began  to  growl  at 
a    great   rate,  and    Chryssa  ran    back    again. 

"What    made  you    kill    it,  grandpa?"  she    said. 

"Little  rascals!"  replied  Mr.  Ruthven,  "they 
eat  my  corn.  I  wish  I  could  shoot  every  one 
of  them." 

It  was  so  impossible  for  Chryssa  to  under- 
stand  how   anybody    could   like   corn   better   than 


HAKli     MAPLE.  217 

squirrels,  that  she  did  not  even  ask  another 
question,  but  went  and  sat  down  in  the  new 
swing  and  looked  sorrowfully  up  into  the  tree. 
How  strange  it  was  !  —  she  had  seen  her  grand- 
father give  the  chickens  corn  when  they  were 
hungry,  and  send  bread  to  a  beggar  —  why  must 
the    squirrels    either   starve    or   be    shot? 

Suddenly  Mr.  Ruthven  set  down  his  gun  in 
the  porch,  and  coming  behind  Chryssa  he  told 
her  to  held  fast,  and  away  she  went  —  and  the 
swing  too,  into  the  air.  Up,  up,  towards  the 
green  leaves  —  every  time  Chrys?a  thought  she 
should  touch  them  with  her  feet ;  and  far  down 
below  she  could  see  the  brook,  rushing  a'oug 
after. its  old  fashion.  Mr.  Ruthven  .-hewed  her 
a  bird's  nest,  hung  like  a  little  basket  from  the 
end  of  one  of  the  long  elm  branches ;  and  she 
saw  the  birds  flying  about,  —  they  were  dressed 
in  orange  and  black  feathers,  and  Mr.  Ruthven 
told  her  they  were  Baltimore  orioles.  Then 
Sybil  came  to  the  door  and  said  breakfast  was 
ready,  and  he  stopped  pushing  the  swing,  and  it 
went  lower  and  lower,  and  slower  and  slower, 
till   at  last   it   stood   quite   still. 


218  HA  ED     MAPLE. 

"Isn't   it   splendid?"  said    Sybil. 

"  0  yes  !  "  said  Chryssa.  «  It's  so  beautiful  to 
see   the   brook   and   the   meadow." 

"  Yes,  and  the  tree  over  your  head.  But 
come  to  breakfast,  Chryssie,  for  we've  got  a  great 
deal  to  do  to-day.  I've  found  a  new  place  in 
the  meadow  —  and  do  you  know  Uncle  Ruth's 
going   away  ?     Some   business,  he   says." 

"  I  wish  people  needn't  go  away,"  said  Chryssa 
as  she  went  in,  —  "  it's  very  disagreeable  !  " 

Disagreeable  or  not,  it  must  be  done  —  as 
Sybil  remarked;  but  everybody  felt  lonely  again; 
and  the  children  waved  their  handkerchiefs  to 
the  stage  as  long  as  it  could  be  seen.  Even 
the  little  cloud  of  dust  it  raised  was  watched, 
until  the  stage  turned  off  behind  a  distant  hill 
and  the  dust  sunk  down  on  the  road  again. 
Indeed  I  don't  know  how  long  Chryssa  would 
have  stood  in  the  porch,  though  there  was  noth- 
ing more   to   be   seen,    but    Sybil   called   her   off. 

"  Come  Chryssie,"  she  said,  "  it's  no  use  to 
6tand   there,  —  let's   go   down   in   the   meadow." 

Chryssa's    eyes   were    full    of    tears,    and    she 


HARD     MAPLE.  219 

drew  one  or  two  sighs  that  might  have  touched 
the  heart  of  the  stage-driver  —  if  he  could  have 
heard  them;  but  she  knew  it  was  "no  use,"  and 
she    followed    Sybil    down    into    the    meadow. 

"  The  new  place "  was  a  sort  of  hermitage. 
Here  and  there  in  the  smooth  meadow  was  a 
great  tree,  and  here  and  there  a  great  rock  too 
—  standing  in  the  midst  of  a  clump  of  bushes. 
One  of  these  rocks  was  quite  flat,  and  looked 
like  a  little  stone  floor,  and  the  bushes  grew 
up  like  green  walls  all  round  it;  but  the  roof 
was   nothing  but   blue   sky. 

"  See  Chryssie,"  said  Sybil  as  she  pushed 
aside  the  branches  and  stepped  in,  "  this  is  a 
real  little  house.  We  mi<rht  come  and  sit  here 
and   sew." 

"  Well  why  can't  we  sit  here  now  ? "  said 
Chryssa,  — "  and  you  can  tell  me  a  story. 
That'll   be  just   as   good  as   sewing." 

Sybil  however  chose  to  get  her  house  in  or- 
der first,  so  she  went  back  for  a  broom  and  a 
knife,  and  while  Chryssa  industriously  swept  the 
flat  stone,  Sybil  trimmed  the  bushes  and  cut  oit* 
some   branches   that  were   too   intrusive. 


220  HARD      MAPLE. 

"It  begins  to  look  very  nice,  Chryssie,"  she 
said,  "  but  to  make  it  a  real  Hermitage  we  must 
get  some  snail  shells  and  curious  things  to  put 
in    it." 

No  sooner  said  than  done.  Chryssa  got  a  bas- 
ket, and  the  two  went  up  on  the  hill  and  began 
their  search.  Shells  were  not  very  plenty.  Here 
and  there  a  snail  had  obligingly  left  his  on  a  bed 
of  moss,  but  not  always  unbroken,  and  the  acorn 
cups  and  white  pebbles  that  could  be  found, 
though  pretty,  were  not  remarkable.  The  moss 
was  beautiful !  —  so  green  and  soft ;  or  in  little 
round  tufts  like  pincushions,  or  wearing  bright 
red  caps  ;  and  the  basket  was  soon  full.  And  it 
was  charming  work  to  arrange  the  various  things 
round  the  sides  of  the  Hermitage  floor,  and  to 
stick  some  bits  of  moss   on  the  thorn  bush  walls. 

"  What  a  nice  place  this  would  be  to  live,  if  we 
were  two  lost  children  ! "  said  Sybil.  "  Nothing 
could  see  us  in  here,  the  bushes  are  so  thick,  and 
we  could  eat  the  thorn  berries  and  pennyroyal 
and   butternuts." 

"  But  we  should  have  to  go  out  to  get  every- 
thing  but   the   thorn   berries,"  said    Chryssa. 


HARD    3IAPLE.  221 

"  O  yes  —  "  said  Sybil,  — "  people  always  do, 
you  know,  in  such  cases.  They  choose  a  good 
time  and  run  out  and  pick  up  things.  Just 
think  how  softly  we  should  have  to  crack  our 
nuts,    for   fear   of  being    heard ! " 

"  I  don't  think  I  want  to  be  lost,"  said  Chryssa, 
— "  what    should   we   do    if  it    rained  ?  " 

"O  we  should  get  wet,"  said  Sybil.  "At  least 
I  should,  because  I  should  put  all  my  clothes 
over   you." 

"  Then  I  should  be  hot  and  you  would  be  ccld," 
said  Chryssa,  —  "  so  that  wouldn't  be  pleasant. 
There  goes  grandpa  down  the  road !  —  I  guess 
I'll   go   too." 

""Well  I  want  to  go  in  and  read,"  said  Sybil, 
"  so  you  can  do  what  you  like ; "  and  away  ran 
Chryssa   after   Mr.   Ruthven. 

He  never  walked  very  fast,  so  her  little  pat- 
tering feet  did  not  delay  him  with  their  short 
steps,  and  of  course  she  did  not  interrupt  him, 
for  he  was  just  as  ready  to  talk  of  apples  and 
pick  flowers  as  she  was.  Mr.  Ruthven's  hair  was 
like   winter    snow   and   Chryssa's    like    spring   sun- 


222  HARD     MAPLE. 

shine,  and  he  walked  with  a  stick,  while  she  went 
about  like  a  grasshopper,  —  but  they  were  excel- 
lent  companions,  for   all   that. 

The  corn-pickers  had  done  their  work,  or  the 
first  part  of  it,  and  now  they  were  filling  the  cart 
with  great  yellow  ears  of  corn,  and  the  patient 
oxen  stood  waiting  to  draw  it  home.  Chryssa 
went  searching  about  in  the  corners  of  the  field 
for  flowers,  which  there  grew  very  tall  and  strong, 
out  of  reach  of  the  plough  and  harrow.  Many 
of  them  were  too  tall  for  her  to  reach,  but  when 
Mr.  Ruthven  had  done  speaking  to  the  men  he 
came  after  Chryssa  and  cut  as  many  flowers  for 
her   as   she   wanted. 

"Now  deary,"  he  said,  "do  you  think  you  can 
walk    home  ?  " 

"  O  yes,"  said   Chryssa,  "  I'm  not  a  bit  tired." 

"Well  I  am  —  "  said  Mr.  Ruthven,  — "  two 
bits.  How  would  you  like  to  ride  home  in  the 
cart  ?  " 

"  O  dearly  !  "  said  Chryssa.  "  Why  grandpa, 
that  would   be    splendid  !  " 

Mr.    Ruthven    smiled,    and    took    her    over    to 


HARD      MAPLE.  223 

where  the  cart  stood,  well  filled  with  corn  ears, 
and  then  he  lifted  her  up  to  a  seat  on  the  very- 
front  of  the  cart,  with  the  yellow  corn  at  her 
back,   and   he   sat   by   her   side. 

"  We  sha'n't  go  very  fast,  deary,"  he  said, 
"  but  then  there's  no  danger  that  the  oxen  will 
run   away." 

Run  away !  —  no  indeed,  nothing  was  further 
from  their  thoughts.  The  oxen  jogged  on  towards 
home,  never  slower  never  faster,  —  whether  Aaron 
cracked  his  whip  or  let  it  hang  over  his  shoul- 
der seemed  to  make  little  difference.  But  the 
day  was  so  beautiful,  and  the  air  so  pleasant,  and 
every  field  and  flower  so  gay,  that  Chryssa  only 
wished  the  ride  longer.  Her  hands  were  full  of 
flowers,  and  in  her  lap  she  had  several  ears  of 
unripe    corn    which    were   kept   for   roasting. 

It  happened  very  fortunately  that  Miss  Flint 
was  going  to  bake,  —  the  table  was  covered  with 
loaves  of  bread,  and  pies,  and  tin  pans  of  gin- 
gerbread ;  and  the  great  brick  oven  was  full  of 
blazing  wood.  Now  there  could  not  be  a  better 
place  to  roast  corn  than  the  mouth  of  this  oven ; 


224  HARD      MAPLE. 

and  Chryssa  at  once  began  to  husk  her  corn, 
picking  off  even  every  bit  of  silk,  and  then  stuck 
one  of  the  ears  on  a  fork  and  set  it  down  to 
roast.  And  roast  it  did,  fast  enough,  —  the  only 
difficulty  was  that  Chryssa  came  near  being 
roasted  too,  the  fire  was  so  hot.  But  the  corn 
was  excellent,  and  quite  worth  the  trouble  of 
roasting. 

"  Now  Chryssa,"  said  Miss  Flint,  as  she  began 
to  rake  the  coals  out  of  the  oven,  "  there's  a  little 
bit  of  paste  in  the  pantry,  and  two  or  three 
apples  I  had  left  over  —  so  if  you  want  to  make 
a   pie   you    can." 

"  A   pie  !  "    said    Chryssa. 

"Yes,  a  pie,"  said  Miss  Flint.  "Take  one  of 
those  pattypans,  and  some  sugar,  and  make  as 
much    muss    as   you    like." 

Muss  was  not  the  height  of  Chryssa's  ambition, 
but  the  pie  was  irresistible.  She  laid  down  the 
ear  of  corn  and  ran  away  to  wash  her  hands,  and 
then  with  untold  delight  and  gravity  plunged  into 
the  mysteries  of  piemaking.  The  apples  were 
sliced    with    wonderful    care    and    deliberation,    the 


HARD     MAPLE.  225 

6Ugar  and  cinnamon  sprinkled  in  with  fingers  that 
almost  trembled  —  they  were  so  afraid  of  missing 
the  right  proportion,  and  even  at  that  point  the 
pattypan  looked  fascinating.  But  when  the  paste 
work  began,  —  when  Chryssa  felt  the  soft  mass 
flattening  down  beneath  the  persuasions  of  a  real 
roller  in  her  own  little  hands,  —  the  excitement 
was  great !  She  did  not  speak  nor  laugh,  but 
her  cheeks  grew  even  more  rosy  than  they  had 
been  at  the  oven  mouth.  How  beautifully  the 
apples  suffered  themselves  to  be  shut  in,  only 
poking  up  the  paste  a  little  in  remonstrance, — 
how  carefully  Chryssa  cut  four  little  slits  to  let 
the  steam  off:  and  as  for  the  pie's  scalloped  edge 
—  it  was  due  to  the  pattypan,  no  doubt,  but 
Chryssa  could  not  help  feeling  that  she  had  some 
hand  in  it.  With  a  deep  sigh  of  gratification  she 
set  the  little  dish  among  all  the  big  ones  on  the 
table,  and  ran  off  to  wash  the  rest  of  that  most 
important  paste  from  her  fingers.  And  truth 
compels  me  to  add  that  the  pie  was  good :  Miss 
Flint  baked  it  in  the  big  oven,  and  Chryssa  and 
Sybil  eat  it  up  ;  the  rest  of  the  family  contenting 
15 


226  HARD      MAPLE. 

themselves  in  the.  most  obliging  manner,  with 
large  pies,  which  were  baked  in  a  common  pan 
with   a   straight   edge. 

Of  course  by  this  time  Chryssa's  spirit  of  en- 
terprise was  fairly  excited,  and  in  the  afternoon 
what  did  she  set  herself  to  do,  but  to  catch  the 
grey  kitten !  —  which  never  had  been  caught, 
which  never  intended  to  be,  —  the  one  kitten  of 
all  the  troop  that  could  not  be  cajoled,  even 
with  cups  of  milk,  or  touching  mews,  or  the  pres- 
ence of  the  old  cat  herself.  From  behind  the 
garden  fence  the  grey  kitten  had  surveyed  the 
old  cat  asleep  in  Chryssa's  lap,  and  the  other 
kittens  at  play  around  her,  but  was  never  tempted 
from  her  hiding  place.  But  this  day  Chryssa 
tried  a  new  plan.  She  set  a  saucer  of  warm  milk 
in  the  great  shed  at  the  back  of  the  house,  and 
hid  herself  behind  the  door ;  there  she  stood  — 
mewing  in  her  most  enticing  way.  But  for  a 
long  time  nothing  came  in  but  a  sparrow  or 
two  —  except  once,  when  the  old  cat  kindly  walked 
in  and  drank  up  all  the  milk.  However,  as  she 
was    doubtless    hungry,    Chryssa   forgave    her,    and 


HARD      MAPLE.  227 

filled  the  saucer  again.  But  after  that,  it  seemed 
as  if  nothing  would  come,  —  Chryssa  was  almost 
discouraged.  She  looked  through  the  little  win- 
dow, and  peeped  through  the  door  crack  where 
she  stood,  but  with  no  comfort,  —  clearly  the 
grey  kitten  did  not  mean  to  come.  And  I  sup- 
pose nothing  could  have  been  further  from  the 
grey  kitten's  intentions ;  but  just  as  she  crossed 
the  chip  yard  to  find  a  bird  for  her  supper,  she 
heard  one  of  Chryssa's  irresistible  mews,  —  the 
grey  kitten  paused  —  and  with  kittens  as  with 
men,  "  he  who  hesitates  is  lost."  Slowly  the  little 
cushioned  feet  came  near  the  shed,  carefully  did 
grey  puss  look  about  for  enemies,  but  of  course 
she  could  not  see  what  was  behind  the  door, 
though  Chryssa  could  see  her  perfectly  well, 
through  the  crack.  At  the  shed  door  the  kitten 
paused  again  and  looked  in  —  but  there  was  only 
a  saucer  of  sweet  white  milk,  and  the  kitten  was 
hungry.  So  in  she  stepped,  and  began  to  lap 
the  milk  fast  enough,  and  when  she  was  fairly 
engaged  Chryssa  pushed  the  door  softly  to,  and 
the   grey   kitten   was   a   prisoner ! 


228  HARD      MAPLE. 

Why  should  a  door  that  is  shut  look  so  differ- 
ent from   a   door   that   is   open  ?  — 

Chryssa  stood  very  still,  but  not  so  the  kitten. 
At  once  she  quitted  the  milk,  and  sped  along 
to  the  further  end  of  the  shed  and  hid  herself 
behind  a  barrel.  Chryssa  waited  for  her  to  come 
out  —  but  nothing  was  less  likely  to  happen.  So 
after  a  while  Chryssa  went  to  the  barrel  herself, 
stooped  softly  down,  and  very  softly  put  down 
her  hand  and  seized  the  kitten.  If  she  could 
but  have  held  her !  —  for  then  with  stroking,  and 
coaxing,  and  patting,  and  warm  milk,  the  grey 
kitten  would  have  had  a  fine  time  of  it.  But 
not  comprehending  all  these  advantages,  puss 
struggled  and  growled  and  kicked  and  spit,  and 
finally  drew  her  claws  down  Chryssa's  arm  in 
a  long  and  very  determined  scratch  —  certainly 
her  paw  did  not  feel  like  velvet  then.  And 
Chryssa  promptly  let  her  go,  for  a  fight  with 
the  grey  kitten  was  the  last  thing  she  wanted. 
But  the  kitten  went  no  more  to  the  barrel.  She 
flew  up  and  down  the  shed,  sprang  at  the  win- 
dows,   and    dashed    about    in    a    perfect    fury    of 


HARD     MAPLE.  229 

anger  or  fright  or  despair ;  Chryssa  looking  on 
in  amazement,  squeezing  her  own  arm,  which 
began  to  smart  a  good  deal.  But  presently  she 
opened  the  door,  and  away  flew  the  grey  kitten, 
with  her  tail  out  and  as  big  again  as  usual, 
nor  even  stopped  till  she  was  safe  in  the  darkest 
corner  under  the  barn.  I  don't  know  which  was 
most  glad,  Chryssa  or  the  kitten !  —  For  both 
hearts  had  been  beating  very  fast,  and  as  Chryssa 
went  up  stairs  to  wash  the  blood  from  her  arm, 
she  thought  to  herself  it  was  well  she  got  off 
with  only   one   scratch. 


230  HAKD      MAPLE, 


CHAPTER    XX. 

^^f^HILE  all  these  things  were  going  on, — 
yiM  while  the  children  were  swinging  in  the 
new  swing,  and  the  grey  kitten  was  recovering 
from  her  fright,  there  was  a  great  deal  doing  in 
the  woods  and  on  the  hills.  Every  night  Jack 
Frost  came  out  and  worked  away  till  morning; 
painting  some  of  the  leaves  red,  and  some  of 
them  yellow,  and  scattering  others  on  the  ground 
by  handfuls.  His  step  must  have  been  very 
heavy,  for  the  flowers  hung  their  heads  and 
looked  quite  crushed,  and  the  squash  vines  were 
shrivelled  and  crumpled  up ;  but  the  golden  rod, 
and  yarrow,  and  cardinal  flower,  were  as  straight 
up  and  bright  as  ever.  Jack  Frost  was  a  great 
friend  to  the  squirrels,  for  he  opened  the  thick 
walnut  husks  and  the  prickly  chestnut  burrs 
with  his  icy  fingers,  as  their  little  soft  paws 
could  never  have  done.  He  even  picked  out 
some     of    the     nuts     and     threw    them     on     the 


HARD     MAPLE.  231 

ground,  though  that  the  squirrels  could  do  as 
well  as  he.  They  liked  to  run  up  the  tall  trees, 
and  skip  along  the  branches;  and  then  with 
one  great  nut  for  a  mouthful,  or  with  cheeks 
stuffed  out  with  chestnuts,  to  dance  and  spring 
from  tree  to  tree,  till  they  reached  the  one 
that   held   their   nest. 

Now  Chryssa  and  Sybil  were  not  squirrels  — 
neither  could  they  climb  trees,  and  yet  they 
thought   they   should   like   some   chestnuts. 

So  one  fair  morning  the  whole  family  set  off 
for  the  woods;  even  Miss  Flint  took  a  basket 
and  trudged  along  with  the  rest,  and  Aaron 
carried  a  long  pole  to  knock  off  the  burrs,  and 
Mr.  Ruthven  mounted  the  old  horse  and  rode 
slowly  on   before. 

The  chestnut  trees  were  very  large,  and 
where  they  stood  in  the  woods  very  tall ;  noth- 
ing but  squirrels  could  climb  some  of  them. 
And  the  squirrels  were  up  there  already, — 
Chryssa  could  hear  them  bark,  or  say  "  Chip ! 
chip ! "  in  their  glee  at  being  squirrels  and 
nothing   else.     How   stupid   and   tiresome   Aaron's 


232  HARD      MAPLE. 

pole  must  have  looked  to  their  bright  eyes! 
—  it  was  so  much  quicker  just  to  gnaw  off  the 
little  burr  stems !  —  and  as  for  the  baskets,  no 
squirrel  would  surely  have  used  one  so  long  as  he 
could  dig  a  burrow  or  find  a  single  hollow  tree. 
But  where  the  chestnut  trees  grew  out  in  the 
open  meadow  they  had  not  grown  up  so  tall  and 
slim,  but  had  spread  out  sideways  instead,  and 
were  big  and  burly  and  easy  to  climb.  And 
though  Aaron  was  nothing  like  so  pretty  as  a 
squirrel,  he  sent  the  nuts  down  much  faster. 
In  a  vain  desire  to  pick  them  all  up  at  once, 
the  children  scampered  about  —  the  burrs  patting 
their  heads  and  thumping  their  backs  in  a  very 
distracting  manner,  and  making  them  laugh  al- 
most too  much  to  work.  Often  too,  the  chest- 
nuts slipped  out  of  the  burrs  and  came  down 
alone,  falling  by  twos  and  threes  and  hiding 
away  in  the  grass;  and  then  everybody  rushed 
to  get  the  prize  which  would  not  prick  their 
fingers.  But  after  all,  the  most  of  the  nuts  had 
to  be  carefully  picked  out,  or  maybe  hammered 
out   on   a   flat   stone.     There  was   no   danger  that 


HARD      MAPLE,  233 

anybody  would  faint  for  want  of  food  —  the 
chestnuts  were  as  sweet  and  good  as  they  could 
be.  But  everybody  got  hungry,  nevertheless,  and 
when  lunch  time  came  they  sat  down  on  the 
grass  under  the  shadow,  having  excellent  appe- 
tites—  if  they  had   no    table. 

Doubtless  the  squirrels  were  hungry  too,  and 
enjoyed    their   lunch,  but    what    a    simple    repast ! 

—  acorns  and  nuts,  and  a  drink  from  the  spring, 
without  even  the  ceremony  of  a  mullein  leaf. 
What  did  they  know  of  apple  pie?  —  the  apples 
themselves,  just  as  they  came  out  of  the  or- 
chard, the  squirrels  might  have  liked  well 
enough;  and  would  to  a  certainty,  had  they  been 
peaches. 

How  fairly  the  sun  shone  as  the  party  trooped 
towards  home !  how  sweetly  the  wind  blew,  and 
used   its    hair   brushes ! 

"Aunt  Esther,"  said  Sybil,  "what  shall  we  do 
this  afternoon?" 

"  What    would   you    like    to   do  ? " 

"  I   should   like  a  good   long  walk,"  said  Sybil, 

—  "it's   too   pleasant   to   be   in." 


234  HARD     MAFLK. 

"  O  yes,"  said  Chryssa,  "  so  should  I." 

"How  would  a  drive  do  instead?  —  I've  had 
about  walk    enough    for   to-day." 

"  But  who'd  drive  ?  "  said  Chryssa.  "  Grandpa 
said  he  was  going  to  the  field  —  and  so's 
Aaron." 

"I  will  drive,"  said  Mrs.  Rutherford.  "0  1 
know  how,  I   assure   you." 

"  That  would  be  very  funny,"  said  Sybil,  — 
"  are   you    sure   you    know  how,  aunt  Esther  ? " 

"That  would  be  splendid,"  said  Chryssa.  "I'd 
rather  have  aunt  Esther  drive  than  any  one 
else   in    the    whole    world." 

"  If  she  won't  turn  us  over,"  said  Sybil,  as 
Mrs.  Rutherford  told  Aaron  to  harness  the 
horse   and   bring   him    up    at   a    particular   hour. 

"  I  know  you  turned  me  over  once,"  said 
Chryssa  —  "don't  you  remember,  Sybil?  in  my 
little  wicker  wagon.  It  was  on  the  flag  stones, 
too.     But    I    didn't   get    hurt." 

"  To-morrow's  your  birthday,  Chryssie,"  said 
Mrs.  Rutherford  coming  up.  "  What  shall  We 
do    to   celebrate   it  ? " 


HARD     MAPLE.  235 

"Is  it?"  said  Chryssa.  "0  1  guess  we 
needn't  do  anything,  aunt  Esther,"  she  said 
twining  her  arms  round  Mrs.  Rutherford,  —  "it'll 
be  celebrated  enough.  "Well  Syb  —  you  needn't 
laugh,  —  what   are   you   laughing   at?" 

"  At  you,"  said  Sybil  frankly.  "  Because  you 
don't   know  what  you    said,  Chryssie." 

"Yes   I  do,"  said  Chryssa.     "Why  didn't  I?" 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I  shall  do,"  said  Mrs. 
Rutherford  smiling.  "  I  shall  make  some  eight- 
year-old   cake   for   tea ! " 

"And  sha'n't  we  have  tea  up  on  the  hill?" 
said    Sybil   eagerly. 

"  If  you  like.  Only  we  must  have  tea  very 
early,  because   the    evenings   are   cool." 

"I  know  what  M  do!"  said  Sybil.  "But  you 
needn't  ask  what  it  is,  Chryssie,  for  I  sha'n't  tell 
you    yet." 

Chryssa  did  not  ask,  but  she  walked  into  the 
house,  thinking  that  her  birthday  was  like  to  be 
celebrated    now   if   it   never   had   been   before. 

Not  even  Sybil  could  be  afraid  of  an  over- 
turn  that    afternoon,    Mrs.    Rutherford    drove     so 


236  HARD     MAPLE. 

well  and  so  carefully.  And  the  roads  and  the 
fields  were  as  pretty  as  they  could  be.  But 
when  they  had  gone  on  and  on  for  a  long 
distance,  and  had  even  turned  towards  home, 
Mrs.  Rutherford  let  the  old  horse  know  that 
she  wanted  to  go  out  of  the  main  road  into  one 
that  was  all  grass-grown.  There  were  wheel 
tracks  there  indeed,  but  the  grass  half  hid  them. 
The  road  was  very  hilly,  not  very  wide,  and 
wound  up  and  down  without  reaching  many 
houses  or  even  many  trees.  But  at  last  they 
reached  a  thick  bit  of  woodland,  and  beyond 
that  lay  the  burying-ground.  There  were  not 
many  trees  there  either,  but  the  grass  was  short 
and  green,  and  the  white  and  grey  stones  looked 
very  peaceful  in  the  shining  of  the  afternoon 
sun.  A  little  low  white  fence  shut  it  in  from 
the  surrounding  meadows  and  grain  fields,  and 
at   the    white   gate   Mrs.  Rutherford  stopped. 

"  Aunt  Esther !  "  said  Sybil  —  "  you're  not 
going   to   get   out  ?  " 

"  Yes  I  am,"  said  Mrs.  Rutherford.  "  I  love 
60me    of  these   old  stones,  dear  child,  and    I  want 


HARD      MAPLE.  237 

to  see  them  again  before  we  go.  You  and 
Chryssie  may  get  out  or  not,  just  as  you 
choose." 

"  I  want  to."  said  Chryssa,  and  down  she 
jumped,  and  Sybil  followed.  Softly  Mrs.  Ruth- 
erford opened  the  gate,  and  the  children  fol- 
lowed her,  —  treading  softly,  with  a  strange  quiet 
feeling.  Mrs.  Rutherford  walked  on  towards  the 
further  side,  and  then  stood  still.  The  children 
silently  turned  as  she  turned,  from  one  stone  to 
another,  reading  the  words  written  there.  What 
6weet  words! — to  tell  of  all  Christ  has  done 
for  his  people,  of  their  love  and  trust  in  him, 
—  words  telling  that  even  their  sleeping  dust 
6hould  one  day  be  raised  in  glory,  —  that  the 
glorified  spirits  were  already  in  heaven.  How 
strange  the  names  looked !  —  there  was  the  name 
of  Mr.  Ruthven's  wife,  and  some  of  his  chil- 
dren ;  and  his  wife's  name  had  been  Chryssa. 
The    children    stood    silently    looking. 

"  TThat  makes  you  love  to  come  here,  aunt 
Esther?"  said    Sybil    at   last. 

"It     always    rests     me     to     come,"    said    Mrs. 


238  HARD    MAPLE. 

Rutherford,  —  "this  place  is  so  peaceful.  Wher- 
ever else  I  feel  tired  or  sad,  I  never  do  here. 
Look,  Sybil,  what  beautiful  words  are  written 
on    these    stones." 

"  But  you  could  read  the  same  words  in  the 
Bible   at   home,"  said    Sybil   doubtfully. 

« Yes  —  but  I  love  to  read  them  here.  I 
love  to  think  how  the  Lord  Jesus  has  carried 
one  and  another  of  his  children  safely  through 
life  and  safely  through  death,  —  that  this  dust, 
which  is  all  that  remains  of  them  on  earth, 
shall  be  raised  up  in  a  new,  glorious  form,  and 
that  I  shall  see  it  so.  For  I  believe  that  Jesus 
will  do   all   this   even   for   me ! " 

Brightly  the  sun  shone  down  in  the  little 
field,  gleaming  on  the  fresh  grass  and  glancing 
from  the  old  stones ,  and  the  birds  fluttered 
here  and  there,  singing  with  full  hearts.  Over 
all,  the  blue  sky  spread  out  its  pure  canopy  of 
truth. 

"I  don't  like  to  think  of  lying  here,"  said 
Sybil    very   softly. 

"No  —  nor    I,    if    this     were     all,"    said     Mrs. 


HARD     MAPLE.  239 

Rutherford.  "But  I  am  willing  my  body  should 
lie  here  for  a  little  while,  —  then  it  shall  be 
raised  in  glory.  This  always  seems  to  me  like 
a  place  where  angels  have  left  the  dresses  they 
do  not  want  for  a  while  —  left  them  to  be 
made  over  anew,  more  beautiful,  more  glorious." 
"I  like  that!"  — said  Sybil  — "then  it's  the 
place  of  angels'  dresses.  I  wish  everybody 
would   call   it   so !  " 

"  There  must  be  one  here,"  said  Chryssa 
60ftly,  — "  see,  Aunt  Esther,  what  is  on  the  stone 
—  'So  shall  we  ever  be  with  the  Lord.'  That  is 
where   grandpa's    wife   has    laid   her   dress." 

"Yes,  the  words  were  always  true  of  her," 
said  Mrs.  Rutherford.  "All  the  people  that  are 
angels  in  heaven,  begin  to  be  angels  on  earth. 
And  all  the  people  that  walk  with  Jesus  here, 
in  these  poor  earthly  robes,  shall  surely  walk 
with  him  there  —  'clothed  in  white,  with  songs 
and   everla=ting  joy   upon   their   heads.'" 

"Forever  with  the  Lord!  — 
Amen,   so  let  it  be." 


240  HARD     MAPLE, 


CHAPTER     XXI. 

f$HE  birthday  morning  was  very  fine.  So 
bright  indeed  was  the  sunlight,  so  brilliant 
were  the  red  leaves  of  the  maples,  so  glittering 
and  white  was  the  frost  on  every  clover  leaf, 
—  that  at  first  Chryssa  thought  only  of  them ;  and 
never  remembered  that  it  was  her  birthday  till 
Sybil   started   up   in   bed    and   called   out, 

"  Chryssa,  I  wish  you  joy  !  " 

Which  seemed  to  be  rather  a  needless  wish, 
after  all,  for  Chryssa  looked  every  day  as  if 
she   had  joy   enough. 

"  O  thank  you ! "  she  said.  "  Sybil,  I  saw  a 
red   squirrel   running   along   on   the   fence." 

"I  do  believe,"  said  Sybil,  "that  you'd  think 
first  of  a  squirrel  —  if  it  was  your  birthday  fifty 
times  over!  But  don't  go  down  stairs  yet, 
Chryssie!  —  I  want   to    go    down    first." 

"  That's  very  funny  ! "  said  Chryssa,  stopping 
short  with  the  latch  in  her  hand.  "Then  you 
ought   to    have    got    up    first." 


HARD      MAPLE.  241 

"Well  you  see  I  didn't  want  to  do  that,"  said 
Sybil.  "  But  now  Chryssa,  you  can  just  as  well 
wait    as  not  —  go  and   look  at  the  squirrel  again." 

Chryssa  would  have  liked  a  nearer  view ; 
but  however,  she  went  to  the  window  again  and 
looked  out  very  patiently,  though  thinking  all 
the  time  how  much  she  might  do  if  she  could 
only  go  down  stairs.  Meanwhile  Sybil  bustled 
about,  but  seemed  to  have  more  than  herself  to 
get  ready ;  for  she  went  diving  into  her  trunk, 
and  whispering  to  Mrs.  Rutherford,  and  making 
a  great  fuss  generally.  Once  Chryssa  heard  a 
very  eager  and  very  smothered,  "  Oh  !  —  don't  tell 
her !  "  —  from  Sybil,  which  made  her  feel  very 
curious ;  but  still  she  looked  out  at  the  bugloss 
waving  its  blue  head  by  the  roadside,  and  the 
little    brook    sparkling   away   in    the    meadow. 

Then  Mrs.  Rutherford  came  and  sat  by  her, 
and    Sybil    ran    down    stairs. 

"  Well  Chryssie  —  how  does  it  feel  to  be 
eight    years   old?"    said  her   aunt    smiling. 

"I  don't  know"  —  said  Chryssa,  —  "it  feels 
just  like  yesterday.  Only  I  want  to  go  down." 
16 


242  HAED     MAPLE. 

"  Eight  years  old  !  "  —  Mrs.  Eutherford  re- 
peated. "I  wonder  if  you  are  eight  times  as 
wise  and  eight  times  as  good  as  you  were 
when  you  were   a  baby?" 

"  I  don't  know ! "  Chryssa  said,  shaking  her 
head  about  and  then  laying  it  down  on  Mrs. 
Eutherford's   lap.     "  I   s'pose   I   ought   to   be." 

Mrs.  Eutherford  stroked  her  hair,  and  then 
stooped   down   and   kissed   her. 

"  When  I  think  how  God  has  kept  you  safe 
all  these  years,"  she  said,  — "  how  he  has  let 
you  grow,  and  get  strength,  and  learn  to  walk 
and  talk  and  a  great  many  other  things;  I  feel 
as   if  I  could  never  thank  him  enough,  Chryssie." 

"I  wish  I  could  thank  him  too,"  said  Chryssa 
softly. 

"  Did  you  ever  try  to  thank  me  for  anything  ? " 
said  Mrs.  Eutherford. 

"  I  never  did  much,"  said  Chryssa  shaking 
her  head  again,  — "  only  I've  tried  to  do  just 
what   you   wanted    me   to   sometimes." 

"That  is  the  way  you  must  thank  God.  He 
says,  '  If  ye   love   me,  keep  my  commandments.' ' 


HARD     MAPLE.  243 

Chryssa  knew  that  was  true,  for  she  had 
often  read  it  in  the  Bible,  but  she  couldn't 
think  how  she  came  to  forget  it  so  often  —  it 
seemed   so   easy   to   remember   and   to   do. 

"  God  has  kept  you  safe  and  happy  all  these 
years,"  said  Mrs.  Rutherford  again,  "  and  there- 
fore I  think  he  will  take  care  of  you  and  keep 
you  all  the  years  that  are  to  come ;  even  if 
they  should  be  ever  so  many.  I  am  sure  that 
he    will   if  you    follow    him,  Chryssie." 

Chryssa  said  nothing  to  that,  and  indeed  she 
had  not  much  chance,  for  Sybil  now  came  run- 
ning in  and  carried  her  off  down  stairs.  And 
the  very  first  thing  Chryssa  saw,  was  Mrs.  Tor- 
toiseshell  with  a  broad  red  ribband  round  her 
neck.  Other  crimson  and  blue  knots  decked 
Chryssa's  chair  at  the  breakfast  table,  and  two 
late  wild  roses  stood  in  a  glass  and  looked 
down   at   her   empty  plate. 

Then  Mr.  Ruthven  gave  her  two  little  cakes 
of  maple  sugar  with  remarkable  scolloped  edges, 
stowed  away  in  a  red  Indian  willow  basket ;  and 
Miss    Flint   presented  a  little    apple   pie   of  about 


244  HARD      MAPLE. 

the  same  dimensions.  Mrs.  Rutherford  hung  upon 
Chryssa's  arm  a  gay  little  bag,  with  a  still 
gayer  needle-book  and  pincushion  inside,  and 
even  a  new  scissors  in  a  red  morocco  case. 
And  then  Sybil,  turning  a  skilful  pirouette  of 
delight   in    the    middle    of   the    floor,  said, 

"  Chryssa,  I'll  give  you  all  my  little  blue  cups 
and  saucers.  I  haven't  got  'em  here,  you  know, 
but  you  can  have  'em  as  soon  as  we  get  home. 
And  only  think,  Chryssa!  Uncle  Ruth's  coming 
to-day !  —  and  we'll  dress  up  the  rooms  and 
make   a  fuss." 

Between  sugar,  bag,  blue  cups,  and  "making  a 
fuss,"  Chryssa's  mind  was  in  a  state  of  con- 
fusion that  left  her  few  words.  However,  if  she 
did  not  manage  to  say  much  about  her  pleasure, 
everybody  could  see  it  in  her  face,  and  that  did 
just  as  well.  She  sat  gravely  down  in  the  or- 
namented chair,  and  looked  at  the  wild  roses ; 
thinking  to  herself  how  good  Sybil  was  to  take 
so  much  trouble  for  her,  and  what  a  pity  the 
little  blue  cups  were  not  there  for  her  break- 
fast  service. 


HARD      MAPLE.  246 

After  breakfast,  the  two  children  at  once  set 
off  after  flowers  and  evergreens,  Chryssa  taking 
her  new  little  basket  along  to  be  useful;  and  in 
such  beautiful  weather  there  could  not  be  pret- 
tier work.  Sybil  had  a  basket  too,  a  larger 
one,  and  they  were  soon  filled,  as  well  as  the 
children's  hands.  Golden  rod  and  yarrow  and 
asters  grew  on  the  hillside ;  and  by  the  road 
there  were  bugloss  and  white  arrow-leaf,  and 
beautiful  flowering  grasses.  Then  they  broke  off 
small  hemlock  branches,  hanging  full  of  little 
brown  cones,  and  other  twigs  of  red  maple  and 
golden  hickory.  Little  snail  shells  were  picked 
up  too,  and  stems  of  wild  rose,  with  now  a 
flower  and  then  a  bunch  of  scarlet  hips.  So 
they  came   home,  well   loaded. 

Now  the  fact  was,  that  Miss  Flint  —  in  her 
store  of  crockery  —  had  little  that  was  fit  for 
flowers.  A  tumbler  would  indeed  hold  those 
more  delicate  ones  that  were  to  stand  on  the 
table ;  but  the  hemlock  boughs  and  maple  leaves 
and  tall  grasses  —  where  were  they  to  go  ?  — 
Even     in     a     broken-nosed    pitcher!       Sybil    and 


246  HARD      MAPLE. 

Chryssa  looked  at  it  with  extreme  disgust  when 
Miss  Flint  presented  it,  but  look  as  they  might 
there  seemed  to  be  nothing  else  in  the  house 
that  was  tall  enough ;  and  though  the  pitcher 
itself  was  the  worse  for  being  broken,  for  their 
purpose  it  was  the  better;  as  they  could  hide 
it  entirely  among  the  leaves,  instead  of  having 
it  poke  its  nose  out.  So  the  pitcher  stood  on 
the  hearth  in  Mr.  Rutherford's  room,  and  then 
the  children  filled  it  with  flowers  and  smothered 
it  with  evergreens,  till  not  only  the  pitcher  but 
the  fireplace  was  full.  The  hemlock  cones 
nodded  in  the  breeze  that  blew  in  at  the  open 
windows,  the  golden  rod  waved  back  and  forth, 
the  rose-hips  stood  up  stiff  and  red,  and  down 
on  the  hearth  lay  snail  shells  and  acorns,  mak- 
ing quite   a  pretty   border. 

Then  the  children  went  to  put  on  their  white 
frocks  and  gay  sashes,  and  then  set  themselves 
to   watch  for  the   stage. 

It  came  at  last  —  looking  just  as  yellow  and 
dusty  and  lumbering  as  ever,  and  long  before 
it    reached    the    house,    they   could    see   a   white 


HAED     MAPLE.  24i 

handkerchief  wave  from  one  of  the  windows, 
and   knew   that   Mr.  Rutherford   had   come. 

It  was  a  gay  day  after  that.  In  the  first  place, 
he  had  brought  a  great  basket  of  peaches,  which 
of  course  made  a  commotion.  In  the  next  place, 
he  had  brought  books  for  both  the  children, — 
and  nobody  could  be  unmoved  at  that.  But  the 
crowning  beauty  of  the  day  was  tea.  For  they 
were  to  have  it  out  of  doors,  up  on  the  east 
hill ;  and  while  they  made  their  preparations  in 
the  house,  the  sun  got  ready  for  a  most  glorious 
setting. 

Many  journeys  did  the  little  feet  make  that 
afternoon,  over  the  meadow  and  up  the  hill; 
and  many  was  the  stem  of  pennyroyal  that  won- 
dered why  it  was  stepped  on,  and  yet  gave  only 
a  sweet  reply.  Over  the  meadow  and  up  the 
hill  went  cups  and  plates  and  tea  spoons,  —  then 
while  the  children  arranged  these  up  came  Miss 
Flint  with  a  substantial  basket  of  bread  and 
butter>  cake,  sweetmeats  and  cheese.  Sybil  and 
Chryssa  chose  a  low  flat  stone  for  the  table, 
and   covered   it   well;  the   centre   spot   being  leA 


248  HAKD     MAPLE. 

for  the  eight-year-old  cake ;  which  soon  arrived 
in  Mrs.  Rutherford's  hands,  all  white  and  frosted. 
There  was  a  dish  of  cut  peaches  too,  and  all  sorts 
of  trifles,  everywhere.  There  were  plenty  cf 
little  stone  seats  scattered  about  in  the  grass,  and 
each  person's  napkin  was  laid  on  one  of  these, 
because  the  table  was  so  full.  Mrs.  Rutherford's 
tea-tray,  with  the  cups  and  saucers,  had  a  stone 
to   itself. 

Everything  was  merry,  —  crickets  and  grass- 
hoppers sprung  away  from  under  the  children's 
feet ;  and  in  the  great  hard  maple  tree  which 
swung  its  branches  overhead,  thu  birds  had  a 
concert.  In  the  west,  the  sun  poured  out  a 
flood  of  yellow  beams,  and  coloured  the  clouds 
wondrously.  Even  the  timid  sheep  ventured  out 
from  the  shelter  of  the  woods,  and  came  nib- 
bling nearer  and  nearer,  lured  on  by  the  sweet 
short  grass  and    perhaps    by  the    sweet  voices. 

•'  The  only  bad  thing,"  said  Chryssa,  "  is  that 
we've   got   to   go   away ! " 

Well,  that  was  a  fact.  Even  a  birthnight 
tea,    on    the    hilltop,    must    come    to    an    end!      Ii 


HARD     MAPLE. 


249 


must  be  owned  that  the  cake  held  out  better 
than  anything ;  and  made  quite  a  show  when 
there  was  not  a  single  peach  left,  and  not    much 


daylight ;  —  but  then  it  was  so  large,  to  begin 
with.  Mrs.  Rutherford's  story  Lifted  too,  though 
not  a  bit  too  long  the  way  she  came  to  tell  it 
was  this. 


250  HARD      MAPLE. 

Chryssa  having  made  that  sorrowful  remark 
about  going  away  (which  meant  from  Hard  Ma- 
ple as  well  as  the  east  hill)  was  then  very 
6ilent,  and  sat  sorrowfully  looking  down  at  the 
old  house  without  saying  another  word.  How 
green  the  hill  beyond  it  looked!  —  and  the 
meadow  where  the  hermitage  was.  The  great 
elm  trees  were  showing  yellow  leaves  now,  and 
they  shook  them  down  upon  the  brown  roof 
and  the  little  porch  with  every  wind  that  blew. 
Yes,  the  leaves  were  quitting  the  trees,  and 
they  must  all  quit  Hard  Maple;  and  so  little 
did  Chryssa  feel  like  a  birthday  party  when 
she  thought  of  it,  that  she  sat  there  with  her 
eyes  full  of  tears.  Whereapon,  Mrs.  Rutherford 
at  once   began   her  story. 

THE    MILESTONES. 

"  What   are   milestones  ?  "  said    Chryssa. 

"On  some  roads,"  said  Mrs.  Rutherford,  "there 
is  a  long  stone  set  up  by  the  wayside  at  every 
mile,  to  tell  the  traveller  how  far  he  has  come 
and   how  far   he   has   to   go.     So   for   part  of  the 


HARD      MAPLE.  251 

way  coming  here,  the  milestones  say,  'From 
Round  Hill,  so  many  miles;'  and  then  the 
last  part  it  is  'To  Hard  Maple,  so  many.' 
Well  on  the  life  roads  that  you  and  I  travel, 
there   is  a  stone  for  every  year." 

"  What's  on  them  ?  "  said   Sybil. 

"  Different  things  "  —  said  Mrs.  Rutherford.  "  It 
depends  upon  the  road.  The  first  ones  indeed  are 
pretty  much  alike,  on  all,  — '  From  the  great 
•wicker  cradle  one  year,' — or,  'From  short 
frocks,  two,' — or,  'From    dolls,  one.'" 

How  the  children  laughed !  —  Chryssa's  eyes 
■were  perfectly  shining,  with  the  tears  and  the 
laughter. 

"  The  road  which  I  am  to  tell  you  about,"  said 
Mrs.  Rutherford,  "was  one  which  began  in  a 
great  house,  and  led  by  all  sorts  of  fine  things  at 
first ;  but  it  was  strange,  that  while  the  child  had 
everything  she  wanted,  her  name  should  be 
'  Wait.'  Perhaps  her  mother  wanted  to  teach  her 
patience  in  that  way.  She  was  a  thoughtful  little 
child,  and  always  took  good  notice  of  the  mile- 
stones  on   her  way. 


252  HARD      MAPLE. 

"  Now  from  the  little  path  where  she  began  her 
life,  a  great  many  roads  branched  off,  and  all 
sorts  of  milestones  and  signboards  tempted  her 
this  way  and  that.  And  many  of  these  had  two 
inscriptions ;  for  when  people  did  not  like  the 
name  of  a  place  they  changed  it,  —  and  then  of 
course  there  was  a  new  direction  put  on  the 
milestone.  The  old  ones  were  often  half  covered 
with  moss  and  grass,  and  the  storms  which  had 
beaten  upon  them  for  a  great  many  years  some- 
times made  the  writing  quite  indistinct  ;  but  the 
new  was  fresh  and  clean  cut,  and  now  and  then 
even   in  gilt  letters. 

"  For  a  while,  httle  Wait  was  led  carefully  on 
past  the  wrong  turnings  and  into  the  right  ones, 
by  her  mother  ;  but  when  she  died  Yvrait  w'as  left 
alone:  and  except  prayer,  all  the  help  she  had 
was  an  excellent  magnifying  glass,  by  means  of 
which  she  could  make  out  the  old  inscriptions.' 
So  with  this  in  her  pocket,  she  began  her  jour- 
ney in  earnest.  But  she  did  not  use  the  glass 
much  at  fust,  —  indeed  almost  forgot  that  she 
had  it ;    and   not  content  with  the  new  writing  on 


HARD      MAPLE.  253 

the  milestones,  she  put  on  more  for  herself — 
so  when  the  sign  said  'To  school,'  Wait  wrote 
under  that,  '  To  be  very  accomplished  and  very 
much    admired.' 

"  This  went  on  for  a  good  while,  —  then  Wait 
began  to  find  that  neither  the  new  inscriptions 
nor  her  own  were  always  quite  true.  Where 
the  milestone  had  told  her,  'A  year  of  balls  and 
parties,'  and  Wait  had  written  under  that,  '  Gay 
dresses,  and  jewels,  and  admiration,' — when  the 
next  stone  was  reached,  it  said,  '  From  a  long 
fit  of  sickness.'  What  the  old  inscription  below 
all  would  have  said  she  had  not  looked  to  see. 
But  now  she  began  to  take  out  her  glass  and 
search  for  every  one.  They  did  not  tell  her 
little  particulars,  —  they  were  just  of  two  kinds: 
one  said,  'To  the  world,'  —  the  other,  'To 
heaven.'  O  what  gilded  letters  lay  over  the  one ! 
—  and  what  words  of  self-denial  and  trouble 
sometimes  were  over  the  other !  —  it  was  won- 
derful. '  From  the  loss  of  money  —  or  of  friends  ; ' 
'  From  sickness,  or  danger,'  —  and  under  all,  in  the 
old    worn   letters,  '  To   heaven  ! '     It   did   not    say 


254  HARD     MAPLE. 

how  many  miles,  —  they  might  be  many  or  few; 
but  that  was  '  the  way.'  "Wait  was  glad  to  walk 
in  it  now,  though  she  never  could  get  quite  used 
to  the  different  milestones  ;  for  sometimes  beneath 
veiy  promising  directions  her  glass  spelled  out 
the  words,  'To  the  world.'  She  always  used 
her  glass  now.  But  though  she  kept  up  her  old 
habit  of  writing  on  the  milestones,  and  though 
she  wrote  very  different  things  from  those  first 
ones,  yet  she  could  not  find  that  they  came  any 
more  true.  For  where  she  had  said,  'To  do  a 
great  deal  for  God  this  year,'  —  perhaps  the 
whole  year  she  was  sick,  and  not  able  to  do  a 
single  thing  —  that  she  could  see;  and  where 
she  wrote,  '  To  a  sorrowful  year,  all  alone,'  — 
there  God  filled  the  year  with  plenty.  So  at 
last,  she  gave  up  writing  a  word, — just  looked 
to  see  that  the  old  inscription  said  '  To  heaven,' 
and   then   went   gladly   on." 

Silently  the  little  party  broke  up  and  came 
down  the  hill,  thinking  of  those  milestones.  "To 
heaven," — yes,  that  was  the  best,  —  no  matter  by 
what  rond  ;  though  they  were  very  glad  that  this 
year's   stone  could  say,  "  From  Hard  Maple." 


HARD      MAPLE.  255 

They  all  went  away  next  day,  leaving  Mr. 
Ruthven  watching  them  from  the  little  porch. 
Chryssa  looked  back  as  long  as  she  could  see 
him,  and  then  cried  till  she  couldn't  see  any- 
thing  else. 

"  To  heaven ! "  — the  miles  were  not  many  then ! 


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